Cat Woman and Bat Girl find themselves on the Planet Gor
Editors Notes: This is a re-posting of a work originally posted on superstories.net. I read it and contacted the author about two companion stories I was writing. He liked my work and offered me the privilege of creating this cleaned up version for posting along with my stories: The Cat and the Shackles and Under the Shadow of the Bat. There were two scenes in "Shadow" which did not quite match up and Theodoric has consented to modify his story to fit mine. Disclaimer: This is a work intended solely for free entertainment use. The geography and culture of Gor are the sole copyright of John Norman. Batgirl, Catwoman, Batman, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, the Joker, Superman and Gotham City are copyrighted properties of DC comics. This work is an erotic parody done in true respect for the creators of the mileau which are blended in these stories. We hope that readers will find the original works of greater interest to them after reading ours.
Disclaimer 2: Some inconsistencies may exist between our stories and John Normans world of Gor. We worked from memory and a few well-worn copies of some of his works we still possess. We have speculated about the stabilization serums and other medical capacities beyond those mentioned in the Gor novels. We think our conjectures not unreasonable. Gor purists might also be upset about the liberties taken in the contact between the Priest Kings and Earth governments. The original Gor was created before the advent of the X-files. In order to create this story Theodoric felt such an updating was reasonable. The editor agrees.
Authors note: The Selina Kyle character in the early issues of Catwoman makes a good physical and emotional model for the super heroine depicted in our stories. Barbara Gordon is taken from the Batgirl of the 1960s, but is definitely more statuesque than Yvonne Craig. NO EFFORT HAS BEEN TO SYNCRONIZE OUR ACTION WITH RECENT COMIC BOOKS. We borrowed characters but not their full histories; the ages of the protagonists have been tailored to fit our story lines. * * * *
Part One (Hey Diddle Diddle)
Markus studied the librarian with interest. She would make a good addition. The fact that she was a police commissioners daughter did not bother him much. Earths governments had known what had been going on for decades now. Those blasted super heroes on this planet would occasionally intercept one of the shipments and stop it. That was just a risk of his profession.
Even so, he had made several runs without mishap. He was careful. That was why he decided to let this one pass. He had a sixth sense about these things. He figured such intuitions were what made him a good slaver. He had read somewhere that all successful drug smugglers seemed to have a one-that-got-away story, a time where they just walked away from an incredibly lucrative deal because it just did not seem right. He did not think of himself as a drug smuggler. He had seen the end product of their handiwork on too many of his acquisitions. He actually sought out drug addicts to acquire because they were already slave girls and being slave to a strong master on Gor was certainly preferable to being slave to a substance on Earth.
The student-librarian was potentially a very beautiful and sensuous slave girl, but the young red-head had a wrong feel about her. Besides that, the Alien slaver had a party to go to. There were other prospects in Gotham City.
He walked away from the woman whose slave lines he had been assessing through her modest clothing. But he had lingered too long. He had already been noticed.
Her name was Kimberly James, at least that was her screen name. It did not matter. Soon her name would be whatever her master deemed it to be. At one point she had been a rising young starlet. She appeared on one successful sitcom and even bagged a couple of movie roles before producers deemed that her addiction was too much trouble to bother with. After all, beautiful young actresses were a dime a dozen in Hollywood. Markus was unsure what had brought her to Gotham City, but it was unimportant. It was just a lucky break, as far as he was concerned, for the both of them. Her disappearance would, in a couple of days, be explained away either as a drug overdose or a suicide, effectively covering up the interplanetary connection.
He and his colleagues had gotten quite good at this over the years. To this day, few even suspected that certain blonde princesses did not die in car crashes, but will spend the next centuries sucking cocks on Gor.
He looked down at Kimberlys face. Her expression was almost angelic. It was not at all like the panic she showed when she realized that the trip she had been promised tonight was not exactly the one she had in mind. She was now all packed up and ready for shipment
Nevertheless, he had received some bad news. One of his snatch teams had not yet returned. It was time for him to leave and his consignment was two girls short. He had already dispatched his special agent in Gotham City to look into the situation. There was not much else that he could try. Fortunately his agent was very competent.
He hated to leave the fate of his men in the hands of a woman. But there was nothing more he could do. Already some meddling super hero or government special ops team might be on their way here. He had his other men to consider. "Load them up!" he called.
"Whats your hurry?" asked a voice from behind him. From out of the darkness emerged a costumed figure, swaying her hips provocatively. Another costumed figure, this one bound, was slumped over her shoulder.
Markuss eyes adjusted to the darkness. He asked, "Catwoman, where are my men?"
"Captured, I am afraid. I was too late, I fear. But I bought you a consolation prize." She let the unconscious form of Batgirl slip off her shoulder. The body fell, with a thump, at his feet. "I found her spying on you."
Unwilling to be distracted, Markus asked her, "Tell me, did you even try to rescue my men?"
"Nope!" came the answer. "You know I am not in the rescuing business." She did not bother to add that if she had tried, somebody would have gotten killed. Selina was proud that in her entire criminal career she had gotten no blood on her hands and she was not going spoil her record for a few thugs hired by this arrogant creep. "I steal things, luscious, beautiful things, like one at your feet. Consider it as a gift"
"Why such largess?" asked Markus, still smarting at the loss of his men.
"I have had to deal with her too many times. It seems she has one or two guardian angels that keep getting her out of tough spots. Just maybe on another planet she might be out of reach of those winged pests." She quivered briefly, thinking about Batman.
Markus could tell when a woman was in heat. He could smell the hormones being released by this cat.
But that was of little concern to him. What did interest him was the figure at his feet. She looked promising, even covered up in that spandex. Of course, he recognized her as Batgirl. It would be a true waste to transport her to Gor. On Earth some criminal kingpin might pay a kings ransom for such a bitch. On Gor she would be just another slave girl, no matter what delights lay waiting for the right master to cultivate. But there was no time for such a deal to be struck.
The first thing to go was the cowl. Of course some romantics might have waited until the last moment to unmask her. But Markus was a more practical type. He wanted a closer look at what he had. He already had a fairly good idea what her body looked like; her skintight body suit left little to the imagination. He wanted to see if her face matched her body. Lifting her up onto a sitting position, He watched the red hair cascade down her shoulders as he yanked the cowl over her head.
He gasped as he recognized his captive as the girl he had been appraising just a few hours before. "Well Barbara, I guess you were not the one destined to get away after all. You have no idea how glad I am to see you. Welcome to your new life." With that statement he ripped the fabric away from her breasts, exposing them. The orbs bounced and quivered from the violence of his action. Her nipples rose and fell with each of her breaths, glistening in the dim light like fruit waiting to be picked. He bent down and allowed the palm of his hand to brush against those nipples as his fingers began to press into the flesh and tissue that her breasts were constructed of. The breasts were firm yet soft and grew hard in reaction to his touch. She had good slave senses, perhaps superb. This was one slut whose slave fires would not require much prodding to ignite.
The sound or ripping fabric accompanied his hand as it separated her costume down to her crouch. What he saw did not disappoint him. His finger began to explore the slit between her thighs, pressing into the channel between them. It was tight, but she was juicing nicely to his intrusion. A moan escaped from her mouth as she started to breathe harder. At first the tightness of her cunt worried him; he feared that she might be white silk and his overlords would not be pleased if it turned out he popped one of those. He was determined to be the first to taste this cuddly slave girl if she was not virginal. Determining by his finger that she was not, he exclaimed, "She is red silk, lads! Let us be the first to introduce her into her new lifestyle." In moments the rest of her costume was torn from Barbaras body. The bounds imprisoning her legs were being loosened
Catwoman cautioned, "Is that wise? I thought you had to be getting out of here."
"Be quiet female, lest we decide to use you too," shouted Markus, as he bought the flat of his hand to bear against Selinas cheek. She reeled from the impact of the strike, which stung her cheek and her pride but not much else. Yet it momentarily drew her attention away from Batgirl, which proved to be a mistake. By the time Selina saw the foot arcing its way through her peripheral vision it was too late to avoid the impact against her jaw. Catwomans body went flying. She landed limp a few feet away, like a sack of potatoes.
Moments later Markus was bent over on the ground, gasping in unimaginable pain after one of Barbaras unerring kicks found its target. He was barely aware of what was taking place around him. He cared even less; he just held his groin.
Barbara was on her feet and look for some means to escape. How dearly she desired to teach these slavers a lesson! But given that her hands were still bound behind her, thoughts of revenge seemed none too practical right at that moment. Then suddenly she felt nothing as her body stiffened in reaction to the alien beam that penetrated her body. The next moment Batgirl lay on the ground, unconsciousness.
Several minutes later Markus had regained enough composure to be helped to his feet. "What do we do with her?" asked one of his aides.
Markus groaned "Just slip her into a tube." He had lost his amorous desires and just wanted to get off the accursed planet.
"No, my lord, I mean her," said the aide, pointing to the unconscious form of Catwoman, who was still lying where she landed.
"Slip her into a tube also." He smiled slightly.
Hours later, a cowled figure was searching the site for clues. He had found Barbara's utility belt and shreds of her clothing but not much else. Yet he had a suspicion as to what had happened. Perhaps Superman could intercept them but Batman had doubts. He would have to make some other inquiries, but it did not look good. He doubted he would ever see her again.
Barbara woke up, feeling strange. All her bodys senses were telling her something was very wrong. It was not simply that she was lying on her side, her wrists shackled behind her to her hobbled knees; waking up in some sort of bondage was to be expected in the hero game. It did not much bother her that she was nude, or that she lay on a hay-covered floor in what appeared to be some sort of primitive stables. It was that she felt lighter somehow. The air did not seem right either. Something was not right, unnatural
Gradually she became better attuned to her surroundings. She found she was not alone. One of the figures was Selina Kyle, nude and shackled as Barbara was. A second woman, this one wearing a short roughly-knit shift-like garment, hurried about the cell, doing odd jobs at the direction of the two men in the cell with them. There was a natural grace to her movements. Barbara wondered if she had ever seen a woman who was so at ease with herself.
Both of the men were huge. One seemed to come straight out of a bad Viking flick. He even had a Thors hammer around his neck. The other wore robes with a Greek or Roman flair. Both were expert in handling women, that was for sure. With their powerful limbs and expertise they were forcing Selina to cooperate as took various measurements of the struggling captives body. Her green eyes glared with hate as they measured the most intimate parts of her anatomy. She screamed obscenities and invectives. But that was all Catwoman could do as the men used their strength and agility to immobilize her, twisting and holding her own powerful body in whatever position they wanted. Barbara wondered if the men could even understand Selina. If they did, they ignored such threats as if they were irrelevant to their activities.
Barbara was about to learn just how intimate and complete such measurements were. She hoped such indignities might have been accomplished while she was unconsciousness. She would later learn that it was part of her slave training. It was important for her to realize that she no longer had any choices in her life. Men could do whatever they wanted with her and she was powerless to stop them.
When the men appeared to be satisfied with their measurements they stood up. Taking multi-tailed whips they began to lay into Selina. She gasped at the pain as she felt the lash of their whips. The third girl spoke in English, saying "Slave girl, you were warned not to resist the will of the masters and now you will have learn what such resistance yields." Selina cried out as she felt strands of the whips wrap around her breasts and flanks. It was obvious that the men were virtuosos with these instruments of torture. Soon Selina was begging them to stop. The beating continued as slave girl explained to Selina that her life as a free woman was over and any thoughts of resistance were not only perverse but would result in needless suffering.
In the end Selina was licking and kissing the mens boots and calling them Master". Tears rolled down her cheeks. The masters had stopped their attacks as suddenly as they had begun. They pulled her up to a kneeling position. Selina did not resist, not even when one of them shoved the handle of one whip down her throat and another one up her ass.
Well satisfied with their new makeshift whip holder, the men turned their attention to Barbara. She screamed "Keep away!" as she watched them coming towards her. Then she shouted "If it was not for these shackles, you would not be so brave."
The man in the ornate robes laughed and threw a set of keys to the slave girl. He said, "Sylvia, release her." Then, in a single grand gesture he threw off his robes. His body was magnificent. His muscles rippled as he retrieved two items that had been hidden. One was a small club. The other was a folded net.
To Barbaras surprise Sylvia retrieved a key, walked over to Barbara and knelt beside her. Barbara watched with envy the sensuousness ease and grace of Silvias motions. For a woman who seemed to show no ego at all Silvia moved with great confidence in her docility. There was a bit of sweetness mixed with sadness when she freed Barbara from her bounds. As Barbara stood, Sylvia dropped the keys at her feet and scurried to a corner to kneel there.
Barbara glanced down at the keys lying at her feet and immediately realized she had made a mistake. The fight was on and she had allowed her attention to be drawn away from her opponents. She barely managed to dodge a flying kick. As the three of them maneuvered, dodged, and struck Barbara realized she was facing two very skilled opponents. One of them she might be able to take with little trouble, but with two of them she would have to make no mistakes if she was emerge victorious.
As the melee proceeded she found herself buffeted by coordinated blows. Even so Barbara fought on in pain and exhilaration. She felt very alive even as she desperately strove to delay the inevitable. Meanwhile, Selina just knelt passively, her head tilted deferentially downward, watching the battle take place. Even when Barbara kicked the keys to her she made no effort to retrieve them.
Eventually Barbara found herself on her hands and knees, gasping for air. She was totally spent; without the energy to fight anymore. Only then did they wrap her in their net. She felt her thighs being splayed wide from behind but she had not the strength to resist the man. The other one, the Viking, knelt in front of her and unloosed his leggings. She looked up at him with pitiful eyes and begged, "Please."
Their sole response to her entreaty was to tighten up the net until she could feel the webbing of pressing deeper into her flesh. Part of her wondered why they bothered; painfully wrapped and secured as she was, she was incapable of doing anything about her impending rape. Yet she was beginning to realize that there was purpose to everything these two did.
She felt her rear assailant reaching around her body until he grabbed her breasts, giving her involuntary sensations of pleasure. Then she felt her hips being lifted of the floor as his large member started to slowly force its way into her tight oozing cunt. She tried to clench her inner muscles but that action only seemed to increase his pleasure. To her surprise it increased their mutual pleasure. Their exertions were bringing her psyche to a new level of ecstasy and pain. Then Barbara could only gasp in ecstasy and wonder as a second male member passed her lips and began its journey down her throat. Its salty taste was indescribable to her famished tongue as she began to lick and suck it to get at the nourishment that the meaty member held within it.
Part of her mind rejected what was happening. She was being raped and humiliated. This was not right. Tears flowed down her cheeks in humiliation, yet her body rebelled against her denial, actively encouraging its violation. She felt male poles being thrust in and out as skillful hands explored other vulnerable points of her defenses, undermining resistance and encouraging further cooperation with each touch. Soon even her mind rebelled as it too lost itself in the sensations they stimulated. Finally pain, lust, humiliation, and pleasure merged into one as she was engulfed in mind-blowing orgasm.
But the men were not through. They continued to thrust, eventually forcing her to capitulate in a new outburst of joy. Only then was she allowed the relief of the sensation of their seed being pumped into her. Her mouth and vagina overflowed with the sticky, white substance. Her famished gullet eagerly gulped it down. As their cocks withdrew, she eagerly licked at the one leaving her mouth and slurped up the spunk overflowing her lips and trailing down her chin.
Before she had time to recover Barbara felt her body being penetrated again. This time she felt herself held upright, squeezed between their torsos, as her rectal cavity was subjected to an unfamiliar intrusion. It was a use it was not prepared for, but it seemed to adapt quite quickly. At the same time her vagina yielded to a new penetration. The two rapists timed their thrusts so that each could feel the others penetration of the fuck toy that still thought of herself as Barbara Gordon. She could feel their heaving bodies against her back and chest, her breasts and backside being flattened with each thrust. As before, her will meant nothing. She was being held captive to their demands and to her own desires. As before, the result was the same.
Abruptly, they were finished with her. They let her body fall to the floor, forgotten and unimportant. It was over. Unmoving, Barbara lay on her side staring blankly, as if she was Janet Lee in the movie Psycho. She lay there watching helplessly as they turned their methodical attention to Selina. The former Catwoman meekly accepted their assaults and in time she too was reduced to a whimpering, reflexive fuck toy. Tears rolled out of Barbaras eyes as she realized what they had become.
When the time came, Barbara meekly submitted as the men applied their measuring devices to her body. After that, she allowed Silvia to instruct her in slave postures and some of the Gorean commands that future masters would use. Barbara felt the whip again and again when she was slow in responding. The pain was terrible. Now she understood why Selina had refused to fight.
Shortly afterwards, Arbus and Rollo relaxed in their quarters. Two slave girls attended them. Rollo spoke, "I think they would be excellent for the Torvaldsland market. You Southlanders would not properly appreciate their firm large breasts, Also, their bodies are more attuned to hard work as Northern bondmaids. As pleasure slaves down here their muscles will turn to fat and soon they will only be of interest to the Tahari market."
Arbus answered, "Rollo, you know as well as I do that there is no shortage of men down here who appreciate a firm, well rounded breast. But you are right about one thing; if we do not start them on a stringent exercise program their bodies will start to balloon.
"Then maybe we should release them from their restraints. I think today we proved that both of them are no more than another couple of slave sluts in their hearts."
Arbus answered, "I do not know. Remember the fight that one put up. Have you ever known another woman that did so well? I am hard pressed to think of a man that did so well. Had she not been weakened by her lack of food, and still adjusting to the different atmosphere and gravity of Gor I am not sure we would have bested her. And the other one looks even tougher."
"True, but we still proved that slave fire burns brightly in the both of their bellies."
"Perhaps. I do not know."
"Come now. We can both tell the difference between a free woman coming and a slave slut yielding and those girls were slave sluts yielding."
"Perhaps, still I think it imperative that we do not let up on their slave training. They should be branded as soon as they recover their wits."
"Arbus, my friend you worry too much. We will brand them with the others, first thing in the morning. Soon their slave fires will consume what is left of their old lives. After that they will be ruined for freedom."
"When that happens let us hope that we are not consumed along with them, my friend."
Then Rollo broke out in hearty laughter. "But what a way to go." He bellowed.
Back on the cell Barbara again lay on her belly. The cuffs and shackles had been replaced and her wrists were again chained to her ankles. Selina lay similarly shackled and hobbled besides her. Silvia was giving Barbara a massage, telling her what a good slave she had been for yielding so completely. Barbara was still attempting to come to grips with her humiliating display in the face of a brutal assault and rape.
She was also still coming to grips with the fact that she was being held captive on the planet Gor. Barbara had come to know of Gors existence. It was more than the figment of some uptight, marginally-talented author who had lost his audience more than a decade ago. She knew that Gor was dominated by a shadowy group of insect-like aliens known as the Priest Kings, which employed immensely powerful technology. So powerful was this technology that that they were able to keep beings as powerful as Superman at arm's length. She also knew that the Priest Kings contested with another alien group called the Kurii for ownership of the Solar System. It was also known that if the Kurii were to win this struggle humanity would soon be reduced to no more than food animals to be bred and slaughtered at the Kurii's pleasure.
The Priest Kings, on the other hand, were relatively benign and isolationist. Human culture had developed on this planet under their restrictive Technology Laws. Outside of medicine and structural engineering their technology remained stagnant at a medieval level. Over at least part of the planet a culture had developed that was proud, honor oriented, and incredibly misogynistic. Slavery was practiced, especially female slavery. Though most women were born free, if any Gorean woman fell slave it would be rare that she would ever experience freedom again
There was the rub. Though most Earth organizations were appalled by the conditions found on Gor, there was little they could do but gripe. As long as the Priest Kings objected to outside interference nothing could be done. If it were not for the fact that the Kurii had never yet shifted their covetous eyes away from the Solar System the forces of Earth might have even forgotten about Gor's existence. It had been a long time since the Kurii has overtly challenged the Priest Kings, but that did not mean the struggle had ceased. A covert cold war continued in which Kurii agents like Selina Kyle probed Earth and Gors defenses, looking for weak spots and seeking to undermine the fabric of human society.
Of course, super heroes attempted to stop them whenever possible. Barbara even understood that government special operations team had been deployed against them. That was how Barbara had gotten involved. For some reason the Kurii liked to kidnap Earth women and transport them to Gor. Economically it did not make sense. Earth sluts were not considered that valuable to the inhabitants of Gor. One theory was that the Earth girls were being used to introduce new ideas into Gor culture. Why else would they concentrate on women from the first world. Why would they demand educated women when the gutter trash would be so much easier to acquire? Whatever their reasons, that fateful night Barbara had been determined to stop them. Thus she now found herself on this God-forsaken planet where no Earth girl ever returned and only one fate awaited her. Only now did she truly understand what that meant.
The next morning Barbara watched in horror and fascination as women were being branded, almost in assembly line fashion. There was quite a contrast between the men doing the branding and those girls being branded. For those doing the branding there was a sense of routine. The looked almost bored as they immobilized a struggling girl, branded her and then gave her a new slave name.
Kimberly James was a case in point. She was placed on the branding rack while she cried and pleaded for them to stop. She offered them money, drugs, anything, if only they would release her. But the men ignored her pleas and just tightened the vices that would immobilize her. To them, she was not a television and movie star. She was just another slave slut to be branded. At the touch of the iron Kimberly cried out in agony. Then she was released from the vice, routinely collared, and dragged away. By the time she was added to the coffle of recently branded and renamed slaves another girl was being branded. In shock she stared blankly as a master lifted her right breast and wrote a symbol on it.
What she did not know, nor Barbara for that matter, was that symbol indicated that the large-breasted beauty was destined for the Torvaldsland market. After some training she would find herself the bondmaid Sweet Breasts. Sweet Breasts duties will include being a beast of burden, toiling in the kitchens, collecting dung and, most of all, absorbing her Jarls thrusts between her spread legs with her wide hips. With the touch of the brand Kimberly James was no more.
As luck would have it, there was another former celebrity at her Jarl's long house. Sweet breasts would occasionally serve alongside her: perhaps in breast-fucking their masters or pulling a plow. This girl would waddle beside Sweet Breasts happily. She had learned her place and her place included being a breeding sow. She had already delivered more than one young bond maid and was destined to breed more. It was her life now. Sometimes their Jarl would bring to bed his two Earth sluts, not knowing or caring that one of them had once been a famous starlet, or the other had been Diana, Princess of Wales.
But the future fate of the former Kimberly James rapidly became of little immediate concern to Barbara. The line of unbranded beauties was becoming smaller. Soon only she and Selina remained. Passively Selina walked up to the vice and did not struggle when she was placed in it. Selina screamed as the iron was pressed against her thigh. When released from the vice she fell to her knees to kiss the feet of the man who branded her. Then she was collared and led to the coffle of slave girls. Her new name was Kafka and the marking on her breast indicated that she was destined for the Tahari trade.
Then Barbara was alone. She was determined that she would not go so passively. This branding would be an event these men would remember. But her struggles were cut short by a blow to her solar plexus and a slap across her breasts. They picked up her bent-over body and easily strapped it into position, her leg immobilized by the branding vice. Then they waited until Barbara regained her composure.
She resumed her struggles but it was already too late. There was nothing she could do to stop the approaching white-hot iron. She could feel of the intense heat before the metal it was pressed against her skin. She tried to suppress her scream as it started to burn into her skin, closing her eyes and biting her lip while the aroma of her own burning flesh reached her nose. Then she felt the heat of another iron approaching her nipple. She screamed. She screamed out her pain and frustration. She screamed out her vitriol. But she screamed.
Then she was released and dragged to the other slaves. She was placed on her knees. Fingers forced her eyes open. She was forced to examine the open collar approaching her neck. She felt the cold rough iron press into her neck with a click. She was collared.
The male named Arbus said, in English, "Your name is now Eta. It will be so until some future master changes it. You will be beaten if you respond to something else. Be warned, Eta, if your attitude does not change you can be designated as branding practice. Men will learn the art of branding on your flesh."
"My name is Barbara." She wept.
"Such useless theatrics will do you no good. Soon you will learn the slave heat in your belly. You are a natural slave, female. The sooner you know that the better it will be for you."
Barbara screamed, "Dont give me that women being natural slaves crap. It was crap when you said it and it was crap when I read it, repeatedly, in those insufferable Gor books."
"So you have read the Gor books. All of them?" asked Arbus. "Did you read even the insufferably, long later ones. I am impressed."
"Yes!" she answered proudly. "I know all about your society!"
"One should never be quick to judge a society from only one source. I think you will find Gors attitudes to be more varied that you might just think. I, for one, do not think that every woman is a natural slave. I never said so. I should know; I am a slaver. I said only that you were. But I am so glad to hear that you have read the books. Girls who have tend to make the best slaves."
Barbara screamed that she had only read them for research, but Arbus ignored her. With a sharp order from him she was hauled back to the branding vice and in moments she felt the iron being pressed into her thigh again. Then Arbus stepped up between her thighs and entered her. Once again he did not stop the slave rape until she betrayed herself in ecstasy. Then she was dragged to the other slaves and forgotten. She lay on her side crying, for she knew the truth. She was a slave girl named Eta who had orgasmed at her masters touch. She had gotten aroused when the iron was pressed into her skin. And soon would be calling men "Master." Barbara Gordon would then be no more. It was really quite elementary. He had done this too often.
Rollo was quite happy with the progress of his two slave girls Kafka and Eta. It was true that Eta still meekly attempted to resist her fate, but she was not fooling any one. The critical threshold had been crossed in her training. She had yielded fully to her desires and would now actively cooperate with her ravishment. Each day she was learning ways to increase her masters pleasure. She did not yet embrace her slavery the way that Kafka did, but already slave fire burned passionately within her womb.
Arbus still insisted that the two girls wrists and ankles be hobbled together. But now they could walk upright, displaying their delights without shame or modesty. They swayed their hips in a synchronized motion as they walked. Rollo was glad that they had changed the girls fates to be that of pony slaves. Pony slavery was a hard slavery but the girls seemed to relish their new roles. It certainly seemed to be a better fate than to be sent to the Tahari as a result of obscene obesity or to be used to practice branding. This was a brilliant stroke. These girls had the grace, beauty, and power to be a Ubars team. Rollo could imagine that Kafka and Eta might find themselves being precisely that in some procession in the not-too-distant future
The final part of their training was just beginning. Modifications to their voice boxes would have to be made that they could only whinny. Few Goreans had ever heard a whinny, the horse being something of a mythic beast on Gor, but that would just make them seem all the more exotic. The girls had already been fitted with their butt plugs and they had gotten quite good at swishing their artificial tails suggestively.
Rollo quite relished taking the pair along the streets of Ar. They would march side by side with Rollo behind, directing them with a set of reins. Even Eta would display herself proudly under the gaze of passers-by. Kafka, by now, had become a wonder. Men would practically beg Rollo the joy of using her. Kafka would look at him with those excited, pleading green eyes and soon she would be used yet again.
Already some discrete offers had been made for the pair, quite impressive offers. Rollo could only imagine what they might be when the girls finished the training.
But that was still in the future. The important thing at the moment was to get these two fillies back to the slave quarters. Kafka had been particularly frisky this day and it was already getting dark. He brought the pair to a stop to admire the view. They were on one of the upper stories of a public cylinder. The view of the sun, rapidly disappearing into the night sky, was magnificent. Still and all, he had a long way to go to get back to slave kennels. He shook the reins, indicating for the pair to start again.
Suddenly Eta seemed to trip over Kafkas foot. It was not like the girls to be that clumsy. They must be getting tired. He chuckled as he looked at Eta who was looking back at him, sprawled on the floor, embarrassed.
Suddenly his attention was drawn back to Kafka. She had propelled herself into the air, doing a back flip. He watched in horror as the slaves hard wooden sandals were driven into his chest by her momentum. He had bought his hands up to protect himself only to feel them crack under the impact. He felt ribs cracking, too. And then he felt nothing as fell backward to the floor, slipping into unconsciousness.
In another moment the slave girl was on him, searching for the keys to her restraints. A few moments later, for the first time she was on Gor she was free of them. Selina threw her partner the keys, saying, "Barbara, the Keys."
The other girl stared blankly at her for a moment. It had been so long since she had been called Barbara it took her a moment to realize that she was being spoken to. It took her another moment to realize what had just transpired. She had been totally controlled by these men for so long it took some time to realize that it could be otherwise. But there was Selina, Catwoman, standing triumphantly over their former master. She was Barbara Gordon, Batgirl, and they were free. In minutes she was able to free herself from her restraints as Selina had done. A few seconds later the pair threw themselves off the side of the building. The ex-slaves cascaded down the side of the building, from tarn perch to tarn perch. They disappeared into the night, their butt plug tails flying behind them.
Part Two (A Cat and a Fiddle)
"Do not worry, my friend, bones will heal. There was no permanent damage done to you." Arbus stopped talking and lifted a bowl of hot, spiced paga to his friends lips.
Rollo cried out "Ha! No offense, but if it is all the same to you I would be rather be ministered to by Silvia. She has certain qualities that your rough hands can not hope to match. "
"So be it, my friend." answered Arbus. He handed the bowl to the slave girl kneeling besides them. Gracefully she lifted it up to her mouth with her two hands. She allowed the concoction to fill her mouth, swelling her cheeks. Then she leaned forward, allowing her pendulant breasts to brush against Rollos chest. Their lips met. Their tongues intertwined as Rollo gulped down the liquid stored in her oral cavity. "I can see your point." laughed Arbus.
A few lingering moments later Rollo broke away from his kiss. "None the less, YOU were right, Arbus; they had me fooled. I would not have thought it possible. My honor will never forgive me. I am sorry."
"We were both taken in by them, seduced by their charms. It is too bad, as well. They would have been magnificent slaves."
"Would have been? You speak as if we will not get them back."
"I doubt they will ever wear our collars again. If they are captured it will be another who will have the privilege of finally breaking them. I have spoken to the city guardsmen. It is their belief that the two sluts have already been re-collared. If they are not, they soon will be."
"There must still be a chance. Surely we have hired trackers and sleen are already on their trail."
"I doubt that. If sleen are tracking them they are not ours. Personally, I hope I never see them again."
"Why!" cried Rollo. "You speak crazy. It is my brain that should be addled, not yours."
"If they fell into my hands, I would be compelled to hamstring them and probably blind them. They would be only pitiful, corpulent cripples, suitable only for the Tahari trade. You know as well as I do that such will be their fate. I prefer to remember them as they were, those magnificent beasts that we were never fully able to domesticate."
"No. I do not know that. I, for one, want another chance to bring their slave fire to fruition. We were so close. We cannot give up now."
"Do you think that will be easy to do? Never have we seen such agility, power, and reflexes in either males or females. Sometimes I shiver when I think what we might have released on Gor."
"Then it must be us that retrieve them. Honor demands it"
"You are right my friend. I will hire the sleen tracker, but my heart breaks in doing so." answered Arbus sadly.
As the Slavers spoke in Ar, A few miles away a guard was feebly attempting to rise. He makes it to his hands and knees but suddenly is flipped to his back by the impact of Barbaras foot. She was then satisfied that he would not soon be getting up again. Calmly she surveyed the battle ground. She ascertained that there was no fight in the rest.
She glanced over at Selina. Catwoman was still supervising the undressing of three free women. They were crying, but complying with the instructions. To Barbaras surprise Selina was quite fluent in Gorean. She could read it too. It was a task Selina set her mind to once she had become one of the Kurii's agents. Two of the women were identical twins. The third was their mother. Behind them two slave girls knelt, each already nude.
Barbara could tell that Selina was taunting them. Eta had manage to already learn a smattering of Gorean, mostly from slave girls like Silvia. From what she could tell, Selina was frankly appraising her captives beauty and explaining how those attributes would be put to use after their enslavement. The daughters, at least, seemed quite naive about such matters. Their bodies were red as beets.
"Cut it out." called Barbara. "We are not going sell them."
"WE may not, but I certainly will." answered Selina.
Barbara tried to reason with her. "Be practical. We are going to have to move fast. They will just slow us down."
Selina slapped a switch in her hand. "They will move fast enough. I will make sure of that."
Barbara asked, "Why bother? They can only bring you a few pieces of silver, untrained as they are."
The older woman asked in a whisper to one of the kneeling slaves, "What are they talking about. You are an earth girl." When the tearful slave told the woman said, "Tell them we have money. We are much more valuable free."
Before the girl responded, Selina ran the switch across the standing womans exposed nipples. "I want to hear no more from you, understand." The woman gulped and finished undressing.
Selina again turned her attention back to Barbara. "You have never understood me. It is not about the money. It was never about the money. It is the thrill. The money was only a way of keeping score."
"Nevertheless, I will not stand for such crimes." stated Barbara.
Selina laughed. "Crimes?" she exclaimed. "Those are interesting words coming from an outlaw. The ironic thing is that what we are doing is not even a crime. It is perfectly acceptable and expected to enslave female captives, as long as they are not of the same home stone as you. As neither of us has a home stone there is no problem. As a matter of fact, if we do not enslave them, somebody else undoubtedly will. How long do you think the nude girls, alone in the woods would last before they were collared or worse?"
"Worse?" asked Barbara cautiously.
"Yes, some beast with sharp teeth or claws could gobble them up." Then Selinas tone changed. Her voice became gentler. "You must have realized there would be consequences when we attacked their guards. You must have realized that there would be consequences when you followed me down the side of the tower. There is no place for Batgirl in this world. The forces of law and order only allow two options for an Earth girl. If you are not going to be an outlaw, then go back and be a slave girl. It seemed to me that you were quite good at it."
Barbara answered, "So were you."
"Yes I was! And I am going to be a better outlaw. Do you know what we are going to do next?" She pointed to a group of male slaves that had been the palanquin bearers before the attack. "We are going to mount each and every one of them. We are going to use those skills so determinedly taught us to get them up and them we are going to get hot and sweaty with them. Do you know why?"
"You are sick. I will not," gasped Barbara.
"Yes you will. You will do it for three reasons. First of all you will do it because you will enjoy it. Second you will do it because in doing so your sweat and odor will mix with theirs, thus hopefully throwing off any trackers that they have sent after us. Third you will do it because I told you to, and if you do not then I will leave you so that you can resume the life of a slave girl."
"You cant be serious," cried Barbara.
"I am deadly serious. If you are not willing to do what it takes to remain free, you do not deserve it. Now get over there and start using those skills I know you have. I will be joining you shortly, after I bind these new slaves." Without saying another word Barbara started to walk over to the male slaves, swaying her hips and crying. "Good," thought Selena, "She is following orders. There may be hope for her yet."
Arbus looked around the market place of the neighboring city. The sleen had tracked the runaways here, but no further. The scent was now old because they had spent too much time following false leads. The slave girls had proven good at covering their tracks.
He had asked around town. He had found out that a couple of free women had come there some time ago. They had done some business and then left. They had hired a tarn to transport them somewhere. Nobody knew where. That meant they could be hundreds of miles away, too far away for Arbus to worry about. Now they were somebody elses problem.
While he was talking to a blacksmith, he was suddenly asked, "Are you Arbus?"
"Yes? answered Arbus, puzzled.
"Those two ladies left something for you. They told me to give them to you and nobody else. They are a gift or something." the blacksmith answered as he led Arbus to the back of his shop. There in the corner were three slave girls, attempting to hide their charms as best they could. It was a mother and identical twin daughters. Despite the girls best efforts their new brands were clearly visible.
Pointing at one of the brands, Arbus asked, "Did you do this?"
"Yep. They paid mighty well to have it done and just left them here, as a gift, I think. That is, at least, what Selina said. Is there something wrong?"
Arbus answered, "No. At least I now know that happened to the kidnapped free woman and her daughters." He paused and then asked, "How did you know her name was Selina? Did she tell you?"
"No," answered the man, "But she left you a message."
"Really! Where is it?" asked Arbus.
"She wrote it on that slaves left breast. It is hard to see in the dim light but is still there. Mighty pretty hand writing that woman has."
As he knelt down Arbus could see that there was writing on the older womans breast. As he cupped the breast in his hand to better read the calligraphy the frightened woman said, "I can pay you well to transport me and my two daughters back to Ar."
Arbus ignored her pleading offer. He was too interested what the writing said. It was hand crafted work--a beautiful, delicate, flowing script--but he was finally able to decipher it. It read:
Arbus Dear,
I am sorry to have left without saying good bye; I know you had great plans for us. I had a great experience. I will never forget the time I spent with you. But I am afraid it is not to be.
I am sorry it did not work out. But I leave you these girls as a memento of the time we spent together, and as partial compensation for any expenses you might have accrued at my behalf. I think they would make a superb pony team! Dont you?"
Love and Kisses,
Selina
It truly was a work of art. It would be a shame to wash it off. He would have to do something about that. Perhaps he could find a tattoo artist. It would have to be the best in Ar. Nothing less would do.
"Was she a lover of yours?" asked the smith.
Arbus answered, "Something like that. You would not happen to have a pot of grease I might use?"
The man answered, "Sure, I will get it for you. The woman and the kids think that this is all quite romantic: unrequited love and all that. Personally I will never understand why you did not put a collar on that woman. Even under her robes of concealment one could tell that she was something special." He walked over and retrieved a pot of grease as he spoke.
Arbus poked a finger into the pot. Then, with the tip of his finger he placed a mark on the right breast of each of the three terrified girls, classifying them as Pony Slaves. Suddenly he realized that in the hustle and bustle of the goings on, he had forgotten to cancel the appointment to alter Kafkas and Etas vocal cords. That oversight, at least, had proved fortuitous.
Then he looked at the horizon. "I have come to believe that there are some women that do not belong in the collar. Thank you and good luck, Selina. You will need it."
Selinas eyes shown with the exhilarating rush she was experiencing. Barbara could not stop shaking. "Do you think we lost them? She asked.
Selina answered, "Maybe. Does it matter?"
"They have been hunting us for days, if you have not noticed."
"If course I have noticed. Exhilarating, isnt it. I swear this is better than sex."
"It is not." Cried Barbara.
"Mind my manners. I forgot you are first of all a hot, juicing slut who is only whole when servicing a male. Do not deny it. I have seen you in action." Selina smirked as she swatted Barbara on the rump.
Barbara gasped as she bounced forward. She said, "You should talk. I have seen you in action also."
"Your point is?" Selina smirked.
"I am sorry, but we are two different people. For you these last few weeks have been fun. You are in your element. If we are not pulling a heist, we are on the run. If not that, we are living the high life. When I am not committing crimes, I am still scared shitless. I was raised to uphold law and order, to be a good girl, not to live a decadent lifestyle made possible by my ill-gotten gains."
"You know, Barbara, what they call good girls on Gor? They call them slaves, especially good Earth girls." Selina retorted.
"I know," cried Barbara. "You do not have to keep rubbing it in. But could there not be a middle ground? Could we not be like Robin Hood?"
"Grow up. Even Robin Hood was not like Robin Hood. The real Robin Hood did not steal from the rich and give to the poor. The real Robin Hood stole from the rich and kept it. Check the early stories about him, before the church got a hold of him and reformed him. In that way we are all ready like Robin Hood. I am sure he knew how to live the good times; why else would he have to have to continually steal?
Learn to enjoy the good times while they last, Barbara. Loosen up; stop being such a cold fish. You are not fooling anyone anyhow, you randy bitch. You should learn to enjoy your freedom. You do realize that we are living on borrowed time? You will be in a collar again soon enough. We can only avoid the law of averages so long. It is inevitable."
"Dont say that." cried Barbara.
"It is the law of averages. Someday, circumstances will combine to bring our downfall. Maybe it will be tomorrow, next month, or a hundred years from now."
"We could live quiet lives, fade into the background, unnoticed." countered Barbara.
"How unimaginably boring! If we wanted to live quiet lives we would have never chosen the professions we selected. Besides, it would never work. You are too beautiful to remain free for very long. Even if you kept yourself cloistered in the robes of a free woman all the time some tarn rider would fly by and slip a rope around you. You try to deny it but you are too far-gone. Your body practically starts begging for the collar whenever a handsome man walks by. Do not think they have not noticed. I suspect if one of them ordered you to, you would strip and kneel at his feet before you even knew what happened."
Barbara cried, "I would not!"
Selina answered, "Hush. Keep your voice down. You do not know if we are truly alone. You see; that is what I mean. You are not cut out for this life. Quite frankly your presence is a risk to my own well being. I think it time that we go our separate lives. This Thelma and Louise thing is not working out."
"You cant be serious." answered Barbara. "We need each other. We are alone on this planet. We have no one else."
"No, YOU have no one else. You offer me nothing which I cannot do without. I am basically a lone act anyhow. I always have been, unlike you, who could never rise any further than being a pitiful reflection of another identity. Of all my nemeses you were the one I despised most, because of your me-tooism. Even Robin wore a different costume. Who knows? You might have held on to him if you tried to dress like him."
Barbara slapped Selinas face and hissed, "What about you? How much success have you had with your hearts desire?"
"Who might that be?" demanded Selina.
"Batman, of course. We all know your heat for him."
"Bruce and I understand each other. That is why we must remain apart. There is no other way. You are different. You are just cramping my style. You live the remaining days of freedom you way and I will live my remaining days my way and we will see who ends up happier."
"You cannot abandon me; please. I dont know the Gorean language or customs well. You would be condemning me to slavery. You cant be that cruel."
Selina rolled her eyes at the lost puppy dog look Barbara was giving her. Selina said, "Ill tell you what. I will make it easier for you." Suddenly she slammed her foot into Barbaras face. Barbara rebounded from the impact and fell unconscious to the ground. Selina smiled and said. "You have no idea how much I have wanted to do that since that last night in Gotham City."
When Barbara awakened her jaw and head hurt like hell. She stared blankly at Selinas smiling face for a few moments before she realized what had happened to her. She was nude; her back was bound, along her spine to a low branch of a tree. Her arms were also bound, to the length of the branch. The end of the branch had been broken off, at her neck. Her head had been forced back and bound to it. Her thighs had been pulled widely apart so that they now hung at a right angle to her torso. The lower legs and been bound to her upper legs so that her heels rested near her rump. She looked something like a woman in a yoga position, but her body was secured at about a forty-five degree angle, instead of being upright. So securely had she been immobilized she found it impossible to move.
Selina was kneeling in front, resting herself on one knee. In one hand was a small jar of paint. In the other hand was a small paintbrush. "Almost done." She said as Barbara felt her brush a bit of paint on her left breast. "Now dont shake like that. There is nothing you can do about it."
Barbara managed to work her sore jaw. "Selina, dont do this to me. Please."
Securing the brush between two of her finger Selina reached over and twisted Barbaras right nipple hard. Barbara winced in pain. She said "Now be a good little slave Boopsie, and call me Mistress. We can do this easy or we can do this hard."
Barbara rolled her eye and answered, "Have it your own way, Mistress. What are you going to do with me? You cant keep me tied up here for ever."
"Actually, Boopsie I can. Not forever, actually. I am sure, sooner or later, someone or something will come along and find you. That is why I am writing them this note telling them what a good slave you are. Let us hope they know how to read."
She put down the paint jar. With her free hand Selina began to fondle and stroke the bottom part of Barbaras breast until it grew hard and erect. "Boopsie, stop struggling. You are just going to make it harder on yourself. This is like that time we spent with the slavers. All that time you made such a public show of your resistance and all it accomplished was give them a way to gage how successfully they were breaking it down."
In response Barbara spat at Selina. Selina merely shook her head and said, "You will never learn." She reached out her hand and leaned over until she could bring her finger up between the bound girls pussy lips and ran the digit down the length of Barbara's cunt lips. Barbara shivered from the sensation. "Juicing up a storm I see. I always suspected you were a masochist. To tell you the truth, I think we all are to some degree or another. Why else would we bounce off buildings, dodge bullets, and the rest? You know I can do anything I want to do to you. Just accept the inevitable and enjoy it. I know it hurts your pride; but when will you ever learn that your pride has no place on Gor?"
"Selina, I mean Mistress, please do not leave me here. Take me to a city, or at least a road." wept Barbara.
"Why should I do that Boopsie? You never looked so fetching. I bet if Robin saw you like this he might take you back."
"Sell me then. I am sure I am worth a bit of gold."
"Do not think I am not tempted. You have no idea how much I would relish seeing you sold on the block. Now I will tell you what; you stay very still and work on your attitude and I will think about it. Stay very still or I will leave you here." Weeping, Barbara complied. She felt a few more brush strokes on her breast then Selena proclaimed, "There, all done. Now was that so hard?"
Barbara said, in humiliation. "You have made your point. Can you now release me so that we can go now?"
Standing up, Selina said, "A rebellious and half-trained slave like you? I think not." Selina walked to her gear. She knelt down and searched through it for a moment. She returned with an open collar and a black hood. She knelt down in front of Barbara and showed her the collar. It had an inscription on it. "I had this made especially for you. We go way back and I could not leave you without a token of my esteem. It simply says BOOPSIE, slave girl." With that she encircled Barbaras neck with the collar and snapped the lock shut.
"Why are you doing this?" wept Barbara in misery. The hood was slipped over and then tied securely around her head. Unbeknownst to her, the hood had been treated with a powder. The power would effect her mind, magnifying the emotions she might feel. Barbaras eyes saw only darkness. Her mind was bathed in utter horror. Sound was magnified, the palpitations of her heart sounded like a drumbeat.
After a while, Selina answered "It is for your own good. I do not think that you truly understand how alone you have been in this world. Hell, you have been following around your worst enemy like a lost puppy dog. It is time you grew up. Tootles, Boopsie. It has been real. It has been fun. But it has not been real fun."
Then Barbara was alone. It seemed forever that she hung, stretched, from the branch. For a while she had shouted, cursed, pleaded and finally begged to someone, anyone, to release her. But it was to no avail. Slowly, cold began to seep into to her body. Every magnified sound seemed startlingly, frighteningly close. She could hear her hearts pounding so clearly now. She heard animals scurry about her. At one point she felt something furry moving along the back of her body. Never before had Barbara Gordon felt so alone, or so scared.
The hours stretched into days and her sense of isolation grew. Barbara had never been one to frighten easily. This palpitating terror was a new sensation to her and she realized she would do anything to make it go away.
Finally she heard different noises in the distance. They were growing louder and she could tell that there was a group. Then she could hear the sound of mens voices. She began to shout to gain their attention. The gruff voices soon grew louder. Finally one of the man said, "Look Kyle. It is a slave girl all tied up pretty-like."
Another one said, "Shes got some writing on her breast. Whats it say Kyle?"
Barbara felt the strong warm, grasp of a mans hand as he lifted her cold breast in its palm. "It says that she is a foolish, stubborn, rebellious little slave and anybody who wants her can have her."
Another male voice said, "That handwriting sure is pretty."
The first man said, "Take off the hood. If her face matches her body this is our lucky day."
Barbara felt the hood being untied and thrust over her head. Even so, the effects of the powder lingered still, magnifying her desires and needs and her joy at being found by these men. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light. When they did , she saw a gruff, hairy, ugly man staring at her, just inches from her face. He looked wonderful. She felt his hot, steamy breath on her face. It felt wonderful. "You Boopsie?" he asked.
Without thinking, she answered back, "Yes, Master."
Still holding her breast in his hand, he asked, "This here says you are stubborn and rebellious. Is that true? Dont lie to me."
She wept, shivering from the cold, "No, Master. Boopsie has learned her lesson. She just wants to be your cuddly slave girl. Hold me, please."
He cried, "Ha; your body is cold. You are probably a cold slave also. I will tell you what. I will let you pleasure my men. If you prove your worth then I will let you lay with me."
"Yes Master!" she answered. They cut her down. She fell to the ground. Slowly she crept to one of the men, her stiff numb limbs protesting as she moved. She used every trick she knew to entice him. After what seemed to be an eternity he pressed her onto her back and allowed her legs to wrap around him. When at last he spilled his seed into her he seemed not very satisfied. He spat and said, "We should leave her be."
She wept in frustration as she attempted to entice another man with her charms. He watched her as her muscles loosened up and her blood started flowing. Finally he took pity on her and allowed her to crawl onto his lap and wrap her legs around him. Soon afterwards, she knelt on hands and knees as another man mounted her, and then another. Once after another men mounted the writhing, undulating, contorting plaything called Boopsie.
Never had she felt so alive before, she thought, as she was wrapping herself around their hot thrusting organs. She craved their heat and attention as she had craved nothing else. Finally with a sense of accomplishment she was allowed to crawl to Kyle. She squealed with delight as he took possession of the hot, cuddly slave. Somewhere along the line, Barbara Gordon, librarian, alias Batgirl, was at last consumed by the slave heat in a slave girl named Boopsies belly. She would not be missed.
Afterwards the men watched as Boopsie found firewood and started a fire. She prepared her masters a meal. As Kyle gobbled down his food she knelt beside him, pressing her body against him. From time to time he would give his pet a small morsel to eat. She would gulp it down and lick his fingers, purring with contentment. In her excited, famished state it was the best meal she had ever eaten.
Unseen from a safe distance away, Selina watched the final capitulation of the once proud Batgirl with an air of satisfaction. It gave her warm feeling inside to watch the slave slut who had once been Batgirl groveling at mens feet. She slipped away knowing that her vengeance was complete.
Over the coming weeks Boopsie realized just what kind of men she had fallen slave to. They were outlaws. Not only that, they were outlaws of the lowest sort. Unlike Selina, these men were craven. Whereas Selina generally chose risky challenging targets who could afford the loss, these men avoided the risky and the dangerous. They preyed on the weak and the powerless. There was a time when Barbara would have looked upon them with nothing but contempt.
But Boopsie did not. Somewhere in the back of her mind Boopsie knew that she retained the skills and the abilities to take the men out. Batgirl had handled packs of more dangerous opponents with relative ease. But Boopsie realized that if she did so then she would be alone and free again. Both prospects frightened her terribly. She craved the security of a strong man to wrap her body around. Those times they did leave her alone she would draw into a fetal position and whimper.
She remained the only slave girl in camp. Other captives would be taken, but they would be quickly sold. The outlaws appeared to be fond of their Boopsie. She loved them. Even so, she was worked all day, doing odd chores, cleaning up and preparing meals. When she was not being worked she strained her body to find new and inventive ways to please her masters.
From time to time she would hear rumors about the exploits of a fearless female thief and bandit. Some people had starting to call the brigand Panther Woman." Others claimed that title was too small for such a woman. They referred to her as the Sleen Woman. By whatever name, many men had pledged to collar her. Some claimed they had. Yet her exploits did not end. Sometimes Boopsie would wonder about her ex-nemesis and partner. Just how long would her luck hold out and where was she currently?
Selina found herself in the outskirts of the Northern Forest. Things had been getting hot for her recently and she thought perhaps a rustic vacation might be in order. She had been quite enjoying her life but unfortunately all good things come to an end. Standing around her now was a group of skin-clad women. Selina believed they were called panther girls. She had been hoping to avoid such an incident, but now that seemed impossible.
Most of the panther girls seemed to think that Selina was an escaped slave, which was, of course, true. Others thought that she might be a deluded free woman, come to join the panther girls, which was decidedly incorrect. Either way, they all believed that she was a source of quick cash after they bullied and scared her. They strutted around, attempting to look imposing. Crude threats were made about the soft slave girl that had come to their forest to join them. No matter how much Selina attempted to assure them that she had not come to the forests to join them they persisted in their delusion. It seemed to frustrate their leader that Selina was not at all impressed with either their tough words, or their big spears.
It was not that they did not seem to be a capable bunch. They had tracked her, and they did seem to be at home in the woods. She even found their tough as nails attitude refreshing from Gorean women. These were not I am woman feminists, which was certainly a point in their favor. It was just that through all her life Selina had resisted authority. It was probably why she had become an agent of the Kurri in the first place. In these woods these women were the authorities.
What the situations finally came down to was that if Selina wanted to avoid being sold to a trader as a slave girl she would have to defeat one of them in combat. The biggest, toughest, bull-dyke type of the girls stepped forward. She carried a spear and a net and she looked like she knew how to use them. There was a sadistic glint in her eye as she approached Selina.
The leader was advising Selina that if she wanted to just submit, it would be allowed. But before The panther girl could finish her statement Selina had smashed her face in. Her body made a back flip and she landed on the ground, unconsciousness. It was just as well. Selina had gotten the gist of what she was being advised.
Her opponent looked in disbelief for a moment. But that quickly turned to blind rage. Selina was led to understand that the two of them had been close. The huge woman charged, which Selina easily dodged. By the time she had turned around Selina was waiting for her. She received a well-placed kick to the face. To Selinas annoyance she did not go down. So, before her opponent could recover, Selina delivered another kick to the hand holding the spear. Selina felt bone and wood crack under her heal. The woman howled in rage and then charged again. Selina rolled under her and tripped up the woman in the process. She landed, face first, in the mud. Quickly Selina grabbed the broken stump of the spear. As the woman rolled around she caught sight of Selina charging. She attempted to dodge, but found the butt of the spear being driven into her solar plexus. She dropped bent-over, gasping for breath and in pain.
It was over and Selina had barely broken a sweat. She cried out, "That was fun." Then she called out, "Next!" But as Catwoman looked at each panther girl, the outlaw bent down to one knee and called her "Mistress."
There was a long pause. Finally one of them asked, "What are your orders, Mistress?"
"Get lost. Just get out of my hair." snapped Selina.
There was another pause. Then one of them said, "We cannot. We have each taken an oath to follow our leader wherever she should go. You are now our leader."
Selina growled, "I dont think you would like where I would take you."
"It does not matter." She answered.
"And if I just left?" Asked Selina hopefully.
"We would track you."
"How might I abdicate this position?" asked Selina.
"You could only lose it to a challenger in a dual, much like the one you just fought."
Selina asked, hopefully, "what would happen then; could I just leave?
Then girl answered, "No, assuming that you were alive, you would then be sold into slavery. But you should not worry about that. None of us would ever challenge you."
"Great," thought, Selina, "This just keeps getting better and better." The hustle and bustle of city life was sounding better and better. What she needed was a grand heist. That was it. In the meantime she would have to think about what to do about these Girl Scouts she inherited. She began to examine them with an appraisers eye. Some of them were actually quite beautiful; a sly smile grew on her face.
Part three; (The Cow Jumped Over the Moon)
The talk of the tavern was of the latest caper the Panther Woman had pulled off. Reports were still sketchy and contradictory, but apparently she had stolen the Home Stone of Lydius. Some reports were that she was holding it for ransom. Others were that she had been already hunted down and was dead or collared. Other people claimed that she had thrown it into Thassa, the great ocean of Gor.
But that was of little concern to the stranger. People were giving him a wide berth. One reason for their caution was that he wore the black of an assassin. But even had he worn the garb of The Peasants people would have probably have left him alone. He was not the friendly type. He had the cold, hard eyes of a predator; a relentless hunter that would not stop until his prey was his.
At this moment his attention was fixed on the girl who was dancing. She seemed to be an undulating, exhilarating contradiction. She was wild but shy, uninhibited but timid, erotic but innocent. She wore dancing silks and strings of slave jewelry. They hung low on her waist to accentuate her charms. There were bells on her ankles and wrists. He noted that her nipples had not been ringed yet, an oversight that could be quickly rectified.
A paga slave approached with a pitcher of the cheap wine, a cup and two bowls. Her nipples had been ringed, he noted with satisfaction. She placed the items in front of him, on his table. He bent down and placed the bowls in front of his two pets open knees; they knelt on either side of him.
They had both once been intelligent, independent free women who had proved to be bothersome to him. They leaned forward, stretching, to lap up the liquid with their tongues. Their breasts brushed the floor. A slight sound of metal rubbing against stone was detectable as they did so. Both knew well enough not to touch the bowls with their hands. But as they drank their eyes remained glued to the sensuous twisting spectacle in front of them. Their eyes were filled with lust and they bit and licked their lips in anticipation.
"Will there be anything else?" asked the paga slave. "Remember the use of us comes with the drink? My name is Emma." She paused and then added, "I see you like the Earth girl look. Emma thrust out her breasts and jiggled them, hoping that he would notice.
He answered, in a cold voice, "Only information for now. What is her name?"
The paga slave did not have to be told whom he was talking about. She answered, with some resignation, "Her name is Boopsie. There was some thought of changing it, I understand. But the writing proclaiming her name on her collar has a quite a sensuous flow to it. It is really quite beautiful."
"You resent her, dont you? Why? She does not seem to be they type to put on airs."
"Quite the opposite, Master. But even though we try, it is hard to compete with her. She is so beautiful, so agile, so needful."
"What was her name before she was enslaved, do you know?"
"She is an Earth girl, like me. But to be honest, we girls know her very poorly. We have not spent much time with her. It is a rare moment that somebody is not using her; her stamina is so incredible. I believe she was the slave of some petty highwaymen. She was picked up in one of the sweeps conducted to rid the hinterland of such vermin. The master would know better. He was part of the group that picked her up."
The man felt a slight kiss from one of his slave girls on his knee. She looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Do not worry," he assured her, "You will have your plaything." The girl quivered in anticipation.
The paga slave said, "There is a lottery for her use afterwards. You can enter as many times as you want."
"I thought you said the use of the slaves was free with the drinks," asked the stranger.
"We are, but Boopsie is so popular that fights were breaking out over her use. A lottery seemed the only equitable thing to do."
"Is she bi?" he asked.
"I do not believe so, but I am. Most of us girls are, at least ever since she came around."
"It is not important. The girls can still have fun with her."
"You really plan to win that lottery." exclaimed Silvia.
"There will be no lottery." answered the man as he watched the swirling, contorting girl.
"The master will not sell her. There have been many offers. He has turned them all down."
"Perhaps they have not made the proper offer. I am sure we can come to an agreement" he answered coldly.
Emma gulped and looked doubtful. "Perhaps you could steal her. That is what the Panther Woman would do." Her eye gleamed when she said the words Panther Woman
"You admire her, slave girl? She is a criminal. I see little to admire about that."
"I am sorry Master, but I do. You would know if I lied. She is so dashing and daring. She is almost a Robin Hood figure."
"Robin who?" he asked.
"He is a legendary figure from my planets past. He would steal from the rich and give to the poor."
"Laudable goal, but flawed in principle. I hope he came to a sad end."
"Oh, no! The Ubar, King Richard, pardoned him."
"Bad precedent. Did he stop his crimes?"
"I think so. He went back to his estate."
"Then he was lucky. I believe your Panther Woman will not be so lucky, I fear."
"I know. We all know. She knows too, I believe. She must know. She is too smart that she would not know."
"In that we agree," he answered.
"You have come north to hunt her, havent you?" Emma asked, fearfully.
"Curiosity does not become a slave girl." He answered. He reached over and slipped his fingers in Emmas nipple rings to guide her to her knees. She did not resist. Instead she opened her knees wide. She moved to rest her arms on her thighs, but he had other plans for those arms. He folded them behind her back and tied her wrists to her elbows, accentuating the thrust of her breasts. Then, leading her by her nose ring, he guided her between his legs.
She greeted his manhood with her lips and tongue, guiding it down her throat. She looked up at him as she bobbed her face back and forward on his pole to the beat of the music. He was tired of her prattle and so put her mouth to a better use. She would not disappoint him.
Later, Emma still knelt, sheltering his cock in her mouth. She was just an ornament, unimportant and irrelevant to the discussion, which took place above her.
The owner looked greedily at the gold piece being flashed by the stranger. The stranger asked him, "What do you want for this Boopsie of yours?"
"She is not for sale," warned the portly man.
"Humor me." The man smiled a chilling smile. The man spilled the contents of a pouch on the table.
The proprietor gasped. "Are you serious?"
"Take what you think is fair, no more." The dark stranger paused and then went on "Consider that a warning."
The man pulled the largest jewel towards him and looked up, worried. He studied the assassin as he reached for another large jewel. The strangers eyes narrowed into slits. Quickly he thrust it back. The strangers allowed his eyes to open slightly. Slowly the owner started pulling gold pieces towards him. Finally his hand was shaking and his guests eyes were mere slits. He gulped and said, "I will throw in Emma."
The man pulled the gold coin back to him and said, "Lets not and I will throw in her collar. I understand it is a work of art."
"Sold!" croaked the man. He was relieved that he was still alive and very much richer. It was with some relief that the strangers slave girls were soon leaving the tavern with his new prize in hand. The tavern keeper looked down at Emma. She was still kneeling underneath the table, not having been told that she could move. On an impulse he unlocked her collar from around her neck. Holding the Boopsie collar in front of her face he pronounced, "Your name is now Boopsie! Understand?"
Yes, Master!" she gulped as she felt the new collar being placed around her neck.
The old Boopsie ran and stumbled, whimpering as she followed her new master. Her thigh burned with a new brand. Her master had personally pressed the iron into her skin. Her backside ached from the whipping she received. She was not being punished; he merely wanted to impress upon her the position she now held. He was glad to see that his Boopsie juiced nicely from the whipping. She seemed relieved. When she was asked why she answered that she had feared that he might free her.
In response to such an outlandish statement he subjected her to slave rape. Several times, throughout the evening, he had already used her. He would press her against the side of a building or throw her over a crate. Each time his slave did not disappoint him. She used all the ability she possessed to please him. Never before had she had such a demanding master. He muscles ached from the workout he had demanded of her. She was now exhausted from the trauma and ecstasy he put her through. Still, he always demanded more. To her surprise she always found it in her soul to deliver. She could do no less for such a master.
His two other pets understood that. They had once been capable free women whose immense talents had from time to time, inconvenienced him. Now their considerable talents existed only in service to him, their Master. The new slave feared that some of those talents would now be deployed upon her. The lust in their eyes told her that she was not wrong.
Suddenly her masters ears perked up. Quietly he signaled his two other slaves. They too realized the danger. He signaled the new slave to kneel. She did so, shaking and afraid. Then they were gone. She was alone. She began to weep and cry for her Master.
Soon a group of armed thugs showed up. One of them asked, "Where did they go?"
Another one said, "I do not like it. Let us get out of here."
The leader said, "Hold your ground. You saw the bobbles he was carrying. We can live like Ubars if we get our hands on those."
Another one exclaimed, "Not to mention those slave girls. I would like to shove my manhood into them."
The cautious one said, "He left us Boopsie. She is more than any man could desire. Let us take her and call it a night."
Before anyone could respond there were flashes of movement all around them. Crossbow bolts were fired. Men cried out in fear, anger, and agony. They desperately tried to defend themselves as those beautiful slave girls delivered blows to spots on their bodies that would lay them low. The men taken out by the man in black seemed almost relieved.
Soon it was over. He walked over to the kneeling slave girl. He said, "That too will be part of your duties. Will you be up to them?"
Her eyes glanced up, as she said, "Yes, Master!"
He answered, "We will see. Stand up and take and turn around."
She did so, displaying her charms as best she could. Such actions came naturally to her; they were second nature now. She completed the turn and gasped in surprise. Standing in front of her, held by the two slaves, was the leader, staring angrily at her.
Boopsies master addressed himself to the man. "I am afraid I have not introduced myself. You may call me Brutus. You fought well. I will give you one chance for freedom. If you can defeat this slave you call Boopsie in single combat you can go. Not only that, you can have her. If she can not defeat the likes of you, she is of no use to me."
He looked contemptuously at Boopsie. "Are you joking?" he asked.
"Not at all." answered Brutus. With his sign the slave girls released the thug. "You may pick up any weapons you might need." Brutus added.
"For Boopsie, I think not." laughed the man.
Brutus turned to his new slave, addressing her. "Take your time. Do not finish him off too quickly. I want to observe your skills in action, to determine if you are worth keeping."
The duel was on. Brutus observed, by his movements, that the man was quite skilled in the art of brawling. But as he circled his prey, lunging and jabbing at her, he was unable to deliver more than an occasional glancing blow. She could deliver her blows almost at will. Finally, desperately, he grabbed for a short sword only to feel the bones of the hand holding the sword being smashed by a swift kick. He fell to his knees, wincing in pain. It was obvious that there was no more fight in him.
"Master? she asked.
"Finish him off. I have seen what I wanted to see," answered Brutus. "The night is still young and there is more to do to you, slave!"
"Yes, Master." she answered, as she delivered the final blow.
Early the next day Brutus prepared his tarn for travel. The new slave knelt weeping. She was no longer Boopsie. She did not have a name. It had been quite a night for her. From her tits hung new nipple rings. Rings had been inserted in her naval, nose and clit. Most of her hair had been shorn. All that remained was one red, Mohawk strip and a ponytail, which ran down to the small of her back. Remains of his sperm and her own juices oozed out of her lower orifices. Every muscle in her body hurt.
Her master continued to demand of her what she did not believe she was capable of. But she had delivered for him and for his slaves. One look from him made sure she delivered for them also. She was not gay, but that did not matter. They seemed to take added pleasure in the fact that a straight woman was pleasuring them. Tomorrow they would demand even more and she would continue to deliver. At last she had had a master that could truly make use of her talents. Like his other slaves, he would demand nothing less from her. His current target would soon discover that to her regret. The slave girl would be part of the hunt. She would put her all into it. Such a master could break even the likes of Selina
She studied the woman helping her master prepare his tarn for transport. The woman looked surprisingly old. She looked to be in her late thirties. It made her stand out, erotic in some ways. Most Goreans, because of the aging stabilizing serums, looked to be in their early twenties or late teens. That was why it often hard to distinguish mothers from their grown daughters. The woman also had an Earth accent. The former Barbara Gordon knew that she had seen this woman before.
This woman had an affinity for tarns. It was rumored that she even knew how to ride them. She was certainly an expert in the care and preparation of them. She even carried a tarn goad in her sash. At one point, as the woman stretched, a brand was revealed on the thigh. Yet she did not wear a collar. The slave girl felt sorry for her, that having once been a slave, she was condemned to the fate of a free woman.
At one point, the nameless slave girl asked her if she had ever lived in Gotham City. The woman smiled at her kindly and answered, "Many decades ago, before you were born. I have been on Gor since 1935."
A man called, "Emila, dont dawdle. Get back to work. Or else I will put you back in the collar again."
Emila answered "Yes Master!" irony in her words and a glint in her eye. She showed her body off as few free women dared to do and went on with her work. After they were done she offered Brutus some more intimate companionship in her private quarters. It seemed Emila had an understanding with her other half. She could enjoy whom she wanted and he could enjoy whom he wanted. Yet they were companions and seemed very much in love. Perhaps Arbus was right and there was more diversity of opinion about such matters on Gor than she had been led to believe. He was certainly right about that silly girl who once was named Barbara Gordon.
While Brutus was exploring the delights of Emila, the two other slave girls delighted in preparing their sister for shipment. They bound her up into a small, contorted ball. The living ball was placed inside a bag, which was tied off. Eventually, she felt herself dangling, alone in darkness, weeping in fear. She could hear her heart pounding. But her terror did not matter. The concerns of slave are unimportant. After they started flying, her terror-stricken mind somehow registered the fact that they appeared be headed in a southerly direction. This confused her, as Lydius was due north.
The free woman studied the Urt girl. The Urt girl knelt by her bowl, weeping. The free woman suspected that, aside from the rag the girl called clothing, the bowl was her only possession. The girl looked like she had not eaten for days. The woman threw a half-eaten fruit into the ground beside her. The girl eyed it hungrily, but let it rest.
The woman picked up the fruit, cut out the bitten part and placed the orb in her bowl. She wondered why she was doing it. She despised weakness. But then she despised pretensions even more.
She asked, "Girl, what are you crying about? It had better not have been a man. They are not worth it."
The girl looked up at the fine-silked woman. She paused and then answered, "I am crying for our Home Stone. By now it rests on the bottom of the Thassa. I know it."
"Presumptuous of you. How do you know that?"
The girl answered "Because she said she would do it if anything went wrong with the payment of the ransom. I understand everything went wrong."
"So what if she did. How could it affect your miserable life one way or another?"
A man growled "It is our Home Stone, you miserable fool."
The woman retorted to him, "So why arent you crying? It would seem to me that you would have much more reason to cry. What has the Home Stone, or the city of Lydius, ever given her?"
"It has given me everything." wept the girl. "Without the Home Stone I am nothing. I will never forget the day when I swore fidelity to the Home Stone and kissed it. We were all equal, no matter what caste, rich and poor. We hugged and cried. It did not matter to the Home Stone that I was an urt girl. But now it rests on the bottom of Thassa."
"They should not have tried to ambush her, at least until they had gotten the stone back." spat the free woman.
Suddenly a whip wrapped around the free womans neck. She fell to her knees in shock, gasping for air. "You should not have dallied, Panther Woman." A voice said. Crying, she struggled to remove the whip, but received a slap for her efforts. "Dont you know not to remove your collar, Slave Girl!" he hissed. Gasping for breath she was forced face-first onto the ground. In seconds he had tied her hands and wrists together. Only then did he release her from the suffocating coils of the whip. "I had this collar made especially for you, Panther Woman, or should I say Brittany. See, it says so on your collar." He held out an open collar for her inspection.
The Urt girl was screaming and cringing in fear.
"Are you insane? I am not the Panther Woman!" cried the free woman.
"Dont lie to me, Brittany. Perhaps you do not know whom you are dealing with. I am Drussus, the Bounty Hunter. I have been hunting you for quite some time and all the tracks lead to here."
Suddenly Drussus felt the lighting quick movement of a hand between his thighs. Before he could react he felt his balls in a powerful grasp. He heard a feminine voice purring behind him, "You know, Drussus, We have a saying on my planet. When you got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow." He gulped. She continued, "Drussus, I am quite impressed that you tracked me. Not many people can. Of course you made only one little mistake. That is going to cost you." Then she squeezed.
Drussus screamed in agony. He fell to the ground, bent-over, his knees thrust to his chest. In moments it was he who was hog-tied and free woman who was getting up." My thanks, mistress." She wept.
"You should learn to hold your tongue in inappropriate circumstances, girl" hissed Selina.
Selina then walked over to the Urt girl. The Urt girl looked up at her, quivering in fear. She watched the woman drop to one knee and take the fruit out of the bowl. Taking a bite, Selina let the Home Stone drop into the bowl. She smiled and said, "I only said I might drop it into the Thassa." Selina winked at her.
"My thanks, mistress, but the ransom?" gasped the girl "The Home Stone is priceless."
"Not to me. This fruit is far more valuable. Consider the ransom paid in full."
She walked over to the collar that Drussus had been holding. It now lay on the ground. She picked it up and knelt beside Drussus, still eating the fruit. She slipped the collar around his neck and snapped it shut. It was an extremely tight fit, she noted. She ordered,"Make sure that Brittany here, gets branded, all proper like." The Panther Woman threw the free woman a golden tarn piece and dropped the fruit core onto the ground.
"And was Drussus branded?" asked Brutus.
"Nobody knows. It depends on what story you hear." answered Rollo.
Arbus walked in, bringing the team with him. He added, "I suspect it depends on whether you want Drussus in a collar or not as to what ending you tell. To many he is a hero. Nobody else has come so close to nabbing her as he did. He only made one mistake. But with her it is all it takes."
Brutus said, "I would think the heroine of the hour would be Urt Girl. After all, it was because of her that the Home Stone was returned."
"No doubt. Already songs and plays are being written about her. Of course it also seals her fate."
"How so? asked the stranger.
"She is too famous. It is never a good idea for a free woman to get too much in the public eye. Sooner or later somebody is going to get turned on by the idea of the heroine of the Hone Stone of Lydius sucking his manhood and it will be the collar for her."
The stranger answered some sadness in his voice, "True. Ironic, isnt it?"
"She would have probably ended up as a slave anyhow. Most urt girls do. Few urt girls become the subjects of myth making. I do not think it is such a bad fate for her."
He paused and said, "Anyway, these are the steeds that you requested to see. I must warn you that they are not for sale. They are magnificent beasts, are they not?" The three beasts, seeing that they were being inspected, thrust their breasts out. Their breath grew heavier. Brutus could see they were wanton sluts who could not disguise their desires. Their breathing grew heavier. They began to juice. Their eyes showed lust. They nervously whinnied and snorted their need. The central beast had writing on her left breast. She seemed proud of that fact.
The face of the girl kneeling beside him grew pale. She shivered. "What is the matter, slave?"
She answered, "That was to be my fate, Master."
"It still may be."
"Yes, Master." She whimpered.
"I see you found our Eta. You must be congratulated on igniting her slave fires. It is something failed to do." Arbus commented.
"It was not I who ignited them, nor is her name Eta anymore."
"What is her name, if I may ask?" Arbus asked.
"Batgirl," came the curt reply.
"Bat Girl, I have never heard a slave names that." commented Rollo.
"You have now. It was apparently a name she went by when she was free and on Earth."
"I thought her name was Barbara?" asked Arbus.
"It was. Batgirl was sort of a nickname. More of an alternative identity she would play with. Now it is her only identity. Is it not, Batgirl?"
"Yes, Master." she whimpered.
"Is that bizarre body painting she now sports also part of her alternative identity?" Arbus asked, studying her.
"Yes it is. It is a representation of a costume she wore when she became the batgirl. I thought it only appropriate that since she is Batgirl again that she might as well look the part. Of course there are differences: this is no costume; it is not paint. The Caste of Physicians found a way to bind these colors to her skin. It is amazing what the Physicians can do, if you ask the right questions. She will wear this forever now, as a constant reminder of what she thought she was and what she has become."
Batgirl looked down, ashamed, but she did not attempt to hide the design. Her hands and part of her lower arms had been colored the same color as the gloves she used to wear. Similarly were her feet and lower legs. Most of the rest of her body, up to her neck, had been colored to match the suit she used to wear. A band of yellow now graced her hips where the utility belt would have been. Her nearly bald head was now a dark blue, matching the cowl she had worn. A bat symbol had been imprinted in gold on her upper chest and upper breasts. The areas that retained the original pigmentation were her upper arms and legs, her bottom cheeks, her ringed nipples and areas around her eyes, mouth and chin, which Batgirls cowl had not concealed. Her three brands were outlined in yellow, as were her nipples. On Earth she would have been easily mistaken for a streetwalker.
Brutus walked up to the central beast and lifted her left breast to examine it. He said, "Beautiful handwriting."
"I know, that is why I had it preserved. It has enhanced her value and she makes a great conversation piece. Everyone wants to know who Selina was." Arbus commented.
"What do you tell them?" the stranger asked.
"As little as possible. I think people prefer it that way. I think they would be disappointed that she was only an escaped slave girl named Kafka."
Brutus broke into a rare smile. "Only an escaped slave girl named Kafka? Now there is a rare understatement. Why dont you claim that she is the Panther Woman? That would certainly lighten up their days."
Rollo asked, "What makes you think she is the Panther Woman?"
The man just glanced at Batgirl and answered, "Lets not kid ourselves. We all know who she is, whether she goes by the name Selina, Kafka, or the Panther Woman. Such games become tiresome."
"Then how do you think we can help you? Would it not be more profitable for you to pursue clues in Lydius?"
"You know as well as I do that you are not allowed one mistake in dealing with the Panther Woman. One chance will be all that I will get if she is to wear my collar. Up North there are only rumors and dead ends. You are not rumors. You were her masters. With the proper probing of you I might find something useful before she returns south. She is probably headed south as we speak. If I am very lucky and armed with the right information I just might be ready for her."
"You say I a lot. You can not possibly plan to take her alone. That was Drussuss mistake."
"I will not be alone"
"Do you mean to take us alone with you?" asked Rollo, hopefully
"No, he does not." answered Arbus.
The stranger added, "I am sorry, my friend. I am afraid you might just be in the way."
Hearing Rollos explosive reaction he added, "I will tell you what. I understood you once beat my Batgirl in a challenge before. If you can do so again you may join us."
"By Thors hammer I will show you!" bellowed Rollo.
Arbus uncrossed his hands. "So be it, Rollo. We are partners in all things. We share all things equal. If one of us is to be the fool, than both of us shall share it."
The stranger unleashed Batgirls collar. "Be gentle on them. I still have much to learn from them."
Not speaking, Batgirl slowly moved to a crouching position, her legs spread wide. Her eyes became cold and hard. Her stance was now that of a predator, looking for an opportunity to pounce. She studied her opponents as they moved in to make a coordinated attack. Suddenly one of them made an attack, as the other positioned himself to strike at any opportunities she presented to them. To his surprise there were none. Suddenly he was alone. Then quickly it was over.
Before she could strike them again, Brutus said "Heel, you have done enough damage."
"Yes, Master." She answered as she attempted to crawl back to his side.
"No, my little slut. You have other duties. Those three beasts are in need, a condition you are partially responsible for. I want you to crawl over to them and relieve some of their need with your exquisite tongue. I have heard good things about it. Their masters and I have things to talk about." He watched her breasts wobble as she crawled to the trio. He reached his hand down to Arbus.
Later he led his small troops of slave girls away. Batgirl could not help herself from pressing her charms against her master. At last she said, "Please master, have mercy on your slave, she is in need."
"Do not worry I will use you, if only to remind you what you were made for. It will be your life, slut, do not forget it, no matter what else your duties might be."
"Yes, Master." She answered. That silly girl Barbara Gordon was only a shameful memory.
Part four; (The Little Dog Laughed to See Such a Sight)
The nude slave girl attempted to protect herself from the rain as best she could. Only a few hours before, she had been the Lady Peada, a proud free woman. This day had begun as her day of triumph. It was the day she became her lovers free companion. It was a day her sister became her slave. But now she knelt, alone, drenched and forlorn. Her life had taken an irrevocable turn. She shivered from the cold night.
A woman had contacted the Lady Peada, saying that she had a way out of the Lady Peadas dilemma. Ever since their father had died, Lady Peada and her sister had been feuding about everything. Most of all, they feuded over the inheritance and Thessius of the Builders, their mutual lover. With the kiss of a branding iron her sister could be irrelevant in all matters, except how well she could take orders. It appealed to Lady Peada to have her sister as her slave. She knew it would appeal to Thessius also. She knew he lusted after the both of them. If the womans proposal was carried out he could have both of them, only her sister would have no choice of when or how she would serve.
The only problem was that the woman made it clear that she had broached the offer to Lady Peadas sister also. Whichever gave the woman the finest gifts would receive a gift in return. A few days after Lady Peada sent her gifts, a gift was delivered to her. Her sister had looked up at lady Peada, collared and branded. Papers certifying her enslavement accompanied her.
Now the former Lady Peada could better understand the turmoil her sister must have been going through. The mysterious woman had returned and a whirlwind of activity began. At first Lady Peada had wondered why she was there. Now that she understood, it was too late. Lady Peada had felt the press of the iron and now she too was a certified slave.
After a long cold wait the former Lady Peada watched a pair of figures approaching in the rain and dim light. Quickly, she recognized the pair. The male in the lead was Thessius. He led her sister on a leash, the girls hands tied behind her back. She watched him loom larger until he stood over her, his crotch just inches from her face. She looked up at his face, weeping. He looked very different from earlier that day when he vowed to become her free partner. "What is going to happen to me?" she moaned.
"Soon you will be taken to my estate in the country to serve me there. But tonight you will be taken to my bed with your sister. I will take a personal interest in both you and your sisters training. You have no idea how long I have been waiting for this moment. At last I have you both and your fortune.
"Not yet. I still have her slave papers." Called a feminine voice from the darkness. "I request my final payment. Then her slave papers will be yours."
"So be it, Panther Woman. How should I deliver it?"
"Just drop it where you are. Take your slave and walk down the street. You will find the papers at the Golden Tarn tavern. But be warned, do not try to cross me."
"So be it!" exclaimed the man. He dropped the moneybag. In moments he had released the new slave girl from her bounds. He soon was walking down the street, the two weeping sisters following them. Their leashes were in his hand. A thought occurred to him. The two girls had most probably never been in a Paga tavern before. He might well spend the entire night there. It had been a long day and he could not wait to experience his new sluts.
The bag of gold coins lay there for quite some time. Eventually an urt girl would find it. She was quite surprised by what she found.
Meanwhile Selina was creeping her way through the shadowy streets of Ar. She knew she was being followed; that was why she had left the bag. She would find other gold, but for the time being she would have ditch her followers. It was proving more difficult than she had thought. There were at least four them, and they were quite skilled in their pursuit. They were careful but persistent. Their movements were purposeful. They already surrounded her. Now they were attempting tighten the noose without her slipping from it. She felt the pressure begin to build.
At last, the only escape left to her was vertical. Taking out a grapnel, she started to ascend. Hopefully they would not be foolish enough to follow her on this cold, wet night. But she was not to be that lucky. Yet now, at least, they could not hide their numbers and they were now only pursuing her. She had slipped from the noose but was being chased. Dexterously they followed her every move. She kept getting higher and higher, jumping from windowsills to tarn perches. Still they kept coming. All four of them had shucked off their clothing, not wanting to bother with such hindrances in the perilous conditions.
It was then that her mind registered the first big surprise of the night. A flash of lighting revealed the presence of Batgirl. Selina felt a sense of deja vu; all too often in Gotham City had that pest pursued her. God, if she had to be captured she did not want to be captured by Batgirl. There was something different about Barbara though. She seemed freer, loser, yet just as skillful. She stared at Batgirl for a second, mesmerized at the lithe beauty approaching her. Then suddenly Selina realized the danger she was in. In a daring leap the male had gotten above her and Batgirl was preparing to jump onto her tarn perch,
Selina spied another tarn perch. It was quite a distance away. Selina was unsure that she could make it, but it was her only hope. She leapt. She saw the tarn perch coming closer to her. She felt herself land on the perch, rolling in a summersault. She felt her body sliding on the perch, sliding along the edge of the perch so that her feet slipped off the edge. She felt her skin being rubbed off. Her fingers grabbed at anything. Finally Selina was able to wrap her arms around the end of the perch as she slipped off. With additional effort she managed to pull herself back onto the perch.
Looking up, she saw that Batgirl was attempting the same stunt. Calculating the girls line of trajectory Selina realized that the girl would come up just short. She saw the terror in Batgirls eyes as she also realized it. Selina reached down and out, hoping to catch the girl. She felt Batgirls hand grasp her arm. Suddenly Selina's shoulder exploded in pain as her shoulder dislocated from the weight and momentum of Batgirls leap.
Worst of all she felt Batgirl hands slipping off her arm as the girl desperately attempted to redirect her momentum into an upwardly direction. Selina watched as the girl shot up, spinning. In midair the girl managed to make a back flip, landing on her feet, on the same perch as Selina.
Selina watched Batgirls breasts bounce up and down. Suddenly Selina realized that the girl was nude. The only thing she was wearing was a slave collar. Selina gasped, "Barbara, you are a slave girl."
Batgirl answered, "Of course, you fool. In the condition you left me, did you expect anything different?"
Selina answered, "I would expect you to be at the feet of your master, doing that slave girls do best."
"This slave girl serves her Master as her Master sees fit. This day it is gathering up a stray cat."
"Oh Barbara, stop the dramatics. I am too tired and in too much pain for it. If you want me, come get me, but shut up. I must warn you that if you try, you or I, or maybe both of us, will end up with our bones crushed on the pavement below. I will not allow you to take me into slavery, not again."
Instead of attacking, the slave girl stood proudly over her quarry, hands on her hips. At last Selina forced herself to her knees. "Damn it, Barbara! Do not make me go this way. Attack me! I beg you."
Her opponent only answered, "My name is not Barbara. It is Batgirl.
"Batgirl" exclaimed Selina! She broke out laughing and then doubled over in pain, holding her torso with her free hand. "My hat is off to you. You made it. You got your hearts desire. You truly are Batgirl. You wear it well, slave girl." Batgirl remained impassive.
Selina was getting chilled and lightheaded. Her body could not stop shivering. She felt as weak as a kitten. One way or the other it would soon be over. Even so. her keen senses soon registered other presences on the platform. Two figures were cautiously approaching the perch. Her mind hazy, she realized that she recognized the pair from her Gotham City days.
She called out, "Harley, Pam, You have never looked better." Ivys face remained a mask of grim determination. But Harley brightened up considerably. Her marvelously expressive mouth grew in a big grin. Her eyes sparkled. Happily she shouted back, "Thanks Pumpkin. Wish I could say the same for you." She even gave Selina a little wave. Ivy rolled her eyes.
Despite her pain and exhaustion, Selina even recognized the big lug standing over her, familiar black cloak wrapped around him. Tears in her eyes, she said, "Good bye, Bruce." She felt herself slipping into unconsciousness as she allowed herself to slip off the perch.
Bruce Wayne lay impassive, staring into the hearth. The fire was warm and inviting. His party members were all suffering from some degree of hypothermia. His three slaves huddled next to him for warmth and comfort. The slaves administered to him their delights as best as they could, but he did not seem to take pleasure from them.
A large bowl of steaming meat chunks and vegetables lay next to them, untouched. At last Bruce reached into the bowl. Finding a large chunk of meat, he raised it to better examine it. Then he reached over to Ivys mouth and pressed it between her lips. She did not resist the intrusion of the meat and was soon slowly chewing the offering as her lips and tongue removed the last of the juiced from his fingers.
He allowed himself a melancholy smile. He announced, "It is time for us to go home. There is nothing to interest me on this planet anymore."
"Yes, Master." answered Ivy, slight sadness in her voice. She had come to love Gor and its more ecologically sensitive population. But she knew that a slaves will means nothing and better than anything else she knew that she was a slave, nothing more.
Harley seemed delighted at the prospect of going back to Earth. But then she was a Gotham type of girl. She missed the bright lights and fast cars. She especially missed the Batmobile. The streets of Gotham City were never quite the same since she had gotten behind the wheel of that magnificent beast.
It was Batgirl who was in shock. This was not the first time her master was able to shock her. Finding that she was his slave had been a major shock. The first time he pressed himself into her was another. But it had also been a comfort knowing that this magnificent male whom she had always loved knew what she was and how to treat her. At last she had found a master who would know how to use this slave girls full talents. At last in her life, she was content.
But now she was scared. It had never occurred to her that she might be returning to Gotham. She realized that soon she would be a slave, alone in the land of the free.
Bruce seemed to understand. He said, "Do not worry, my little slut. Your place is not on Earth. You will be sold here on Gor. Here is where you belong."
"Please Master," She wept. "I love you. I always have."
He answered, "But, my cuddly little slut, I never have. I never will."
"It does not matter. I am your slave girl. I know that now. Just use me as you see fit, Master. It is why I exist."
"True, then so you should rejoice. You are only being used again. Nothing else is important."
There was a long silence, finally broken by Harleys voice. "I still dont get it, Master B--You had her in her hands. Why did you let her slip away?" There was a brief gasp that a mere slave girl would ask such a personal question. But then everybody knew that Harley had taken the least to her slavery.
Selina wandered the plaza, studying the different goods being offered. Occasionally she would even ask the price of a nick-knack. But she would invariably shake her head. She was not in the mood to haggle.
She felt great. Her arm was fully functional again. A few days being babied in the care of a Gorean physician could do wonders in these matters. When asked how much was owed for such personal care, she had been assured that all costs had been taken care of. The physician apparently was paid well enough to not even ask about the brand on Selinas thigh.
From time to time her eye would look up at the stage. It was really quite a beautiful platform, in a primitive sort of way. The backdrop of the stage was decorated by sculpted figures of slave girls. She understood it was some scene from Ars mythic past. Sawdust had been spread literally spread on the floor of the platform.
One after another, slave girls would be brought up onto the stage. She would be put upon her paces. The bids would start. The auctioneer would lead her into more and more erotic displays. The bids would increase. At last, spent and sweating, the girl would be led off the stage, sold.
At last the moment arrived that Selina was waiting for. The naked form of Batgirl was being lead into stage. Suddenly a hush fell upon the crowd. Up until this point, the girls being sold had been talented breathtaking specimens of slave heat. But then again, little else would have been acceptable upon this stage. But even in the jaded regulars eyes there was recognition that this girl was something special.
Her bizarrely-dyed body moved with the grace and style of both slave girl and predator. She displayed docility and confidence, submission and pride. This was one who knew that she was nothing but a slave girl, and yet was so much more. Everybody knew the truth of the auctioneers words when he announced, "Pleasure slave, but I can see so much more."
There was a brief burst of nervous, laughter to his comment. But the hush soon returned as he started to put her swaying body through her paces. She began to catch the crowd in the web she was creating with her finely tuned muscles and her needful, submissive body. Even the auctioneer seemed mesmerized by the movements he was guiding her to make. So effective was the performance that no bids were being made.
At last someone shouted "Fifty gold." The auctioneer merely stared at him for a moment, attempting to grasp what the fellow meant by that. Then he seemed to shake his head. He shouted, "Fifty gold for this luscious bit of heat, surely we can do better than that." Actually it had been the high bid of the day. But everybody realized that it would go much higher before the transaction was complete. Soon the bids began to rise with the movements of her hips and tongue. Selina had to admit that Batgirl was putting up quite a show. Selina even placed a couple of bid herself.
Meanwhile Bruce maneuvered himself closer to this woman. Even in her robes of concealment she was magnificent. But then he had always known that. She seemed relaxed and enjoying herself. Briefly he thought about just leaving her in her revelry. But he steeled himself and continued his stealthy approach.
When he was but inches behind her she said, "Hello Bruce, or should I call you Brutus?" Her eyes were still trained on the display taking on stage.
"Either one will do, Selina. You are looking well." He answered.
"I am doing quite well. Thank you for what you did for me, by the way."
"It is unimportant. I must ask what you are doing here. After all it is an obvious trap. It was rather stupid of you to walk into it. You can not possibly think I am going to let you slip through my fingers again."
She answered, "Well Bruce, it was remarkably stupid of you to set such an obvious trap."
Bruce smiled and answered; "It worked. So why did it?" She leaned back against his body and allowed his hands on her shoulders.
"I guess I owe you one. By all rights I should be wearing your collar right now. I would have collared you if the conditions were reversed." Her face made a gesture to the woman gyrating on the stage. "It is not as if you have not enslaved other women before me. I am curious about what is going on in that mind of yours. Enslaving women, at least, used to be outside your standard mode of operation."
He answered, "I am not the man I used to be. After Robin left and Alfred died I was temporarily alone and rudderless. At the same time I found myself increasingly frustrated at the lack of real progress I was making against the criminal element of Gotham City. I would catch people and place them in Arkham Asylum. But sooner or later they would escape, or others would take their place.
Meanwhile, I got further involved in the struggle against the Kurii. One thing I did notice that when I captured an agent of the Kurii I would never have to bother with her again after turning them over to agents of the Priest Kings. I even managed to arrange for a couple of criminal incorrigibles to slip into their hands. I really wish I could do the same thing with the Joker, but they would only agree to take female troublemakers.
Then first Harley and then Ivy fell into my hands. I realized nobody knew I had either of them in my power. I made plans to transport them to Gor so that I would never have to worry about them again. Then it occurred to me to ask why the Goreans were having all the fun. My ownership of them began as an experiment; I wanted to know whether I could do what the Goreans do everyday and ignite the slave fires within their bellies.
I have to admit it was quite exhilarating to watch their shocked faces as I burned my brand into their flesh, and when I first subjected them to slave rape. I will treasure the first time I forced Ivy to yield. She did not want to do it. She hated me for what I had done to her. But she knew as well as I did the implications of what I did. I had forced from her psyche a gift she was unwilling to give. I had established more control over her emotions than she had. That day her previous image of herself began to crumble. Under relentless pressure I rebuilt it. All that is left of her psyche is what I sculpted. She is now my most loyal pet. She has no other choice. I gave her none. She has, in the end, proved quite a capable forensic scientist, and Harley, an invaluable, criminal psychologist. Their aide was invaluable in tracking you down."
"But I am still confused." She indicated the woman undulating on the stage. "Why did you enslave her? I thought she was supposed to be one of the good guys?"
"Actually I did not enslave her. When I found her she was already a slave girl, partially thanks for you. But that begs the question; the thought of freeing her never occurred to me once I laid my eyes upon her. Look at her. She was made to be fucked; Batgirl was made for slavery. I think I always realized that, even when she was still free and Barbara Gordon. Had I been as wise back then as I am now, the first time I laid my eyes on her bat form I would have lured her into the Bat Cave and turned her into my slave then and there.
It serves her right. I always somewhat resented her copying my persona. I did not ask her to become Batgirl. She just showed up one day and I had to live with her presence. I assure you I gained much more fulfillment in my months of ownership of her than all those years that she was my so-called ally. God, was it ever good to fuck her!
Besides, I was only allowed to come here if I agreed to certain limitations. I could not bring my utility belt, or attempt a social revolution. I was brought in to nip another social revolution in the bud; a social revolution named the Panther Woman. Freeing another potential Panther Woman would not have been tolerated. Their concern was unfounded. One look at her and I would have not altered her fate in any way. How I love the thought of that bitch being a slave girl! I love the thought of her paying for her pretensions over and over again."
"You show promise." laughed Selina, rubbing against him.
"I take it you approve?" asked Bruce.
"I am not the one to ask. It would be hypocritical for me to pass judgement. I have done far worse in my criminal career. What about your goody-goody friends? I am sure they would disapprove."
"They do not know. As far as they know Harley and Ivy have disappeared off the face of the earth. As far as I know, they might have each done the same thing."
"Superman with his own slave harem? I like that. I do not believe it, but I like it. I always thought that you had a bit of the villain inside you. Now I know it. It makes you more exciting. It makes our chase more exciting, knowing what you may do to me in the end. You know, there is a side of me that is a bit insulted that you let me go. It makes me think that I am not a keeper."
"It is not that. My blood boils at the thought of you being in my power. But Arbus thinks that you are not a natural slave so the only way to keep you is to crush you, destroy you. He may be right. I cannot do that; I love you too much. That is what I have come to tell you. Our games are over. I am returning to Earth now. Good luck."
Selina suddenly got very cold. She whispered, "What about me?"
"I do not know. It depends on how clever you are. On Earth, even if you managed to make it back there, you would find your assets seized, and impending transportation back to Gor if you were caught. That is, if you made it back to Earth. On Gor, some very clever men are actively hunting you. I suspect one of them will someday succeed in placing his collar on you. After that, who knows? I understand that the High Council of Lydius wants to have your body impaled above the main city gate and left there as a warning for those who would embarrass them again. On the other hand, I understand that there is quite a grass roots movement to have you declared Ubara."
She answered, "Neither of which is a desirable alternative." She paused and then blurted out, "Bruce, you were cruel not to collar me when you had the chance. You have doomed me to a far worse fate."
"As a legal technicality, I already own you, at least in the eyes of Gor. I bought your enslavement papers from Arbus and Rollo. You were quite cheap, all things considered. He reached over and unhooked the veil from her face. It fluttered to the ground.
"You still have not answered my question. How could you not collar me, especially after you went though all this trouble to get me? I know you. You are not a cruel man."
"I could not. You put up such a valiant effort to escape that I thought you deserved another chance, especially when you indicated that you would prefer death to my collar."
"Bruce, I knew that you would not let me die."
"You almost did. You almost slipped out of my grasp more than once." Bruce answered. "It was one of the few times I was truly afraid."
She said, "I truly am sorry for that. Is there some way that I can make it up to you?" She let the outer robe of concealment slip from her body and fall to the ground. "I mean, I can think of worse fates than becoming your slave. Arbus was wrong about one thing. I could be a slave in your hands."
"Do not talk foolishness. Do you have any idea what entails such foolish words?"
"Probably far better than you. It was I who was branded and subjected to slave discipline. It was I who was subjugated to slave rape and other activities designed ruin me for freedom. I can tell you right now that all those times that they were subjecting me to those deliciously mind-bending tortures, the only way I was able to keep my sanity was to imagine that it was you subjecting me to them. It was the only way I was able to produce to slave heat to fool my masters. I have been your slave long before you acquired legal ownership of me."
He pulled off another robe. She wiggled free of it." You would be branded, whipped, subjected to punishing routines to make you mine. Nothing less would do." Bruce cautioned her. "Do not think I would be easy on you."
"It is not a decision I make lightly. But I find myself trapped in a maze, with fewer and fewer palatable options to escape it." She thrust the last robe down, off her body. Then she ripped the last remaining garment, a silken half slip, from her body. She allowed herself to fall to her knees. She said, "I, Selina Kyle, formally of the Planet Earth, submit myself to Bruce Wayne, as a slave, completely, to do with as he wishes." She looked over her shoulder; "It is out of your hands, Master."
He looked down on his slave, his face stern "So be it! Forgive me, Selina". Taking a slave collar out of a pouch, he slipped it around her neck, snapping it shut. "As of this moment Catwoman, you no longer exist. Your new name is Buffy."
"What Master?" she asked.
"It is your new name. Live with it." He knelt down, snapping a leash onto her collar.
"Buffy?" she asked, horror forming on her face. "NO!"
"Come along, Buffy. We have things to do." He strode off, half dragging her along with him. Neither of them noticed that the bidding had stooped. Batgirl had been sold.
Nor did Buffy reflect of Batgirls fate when Bruce pressed the iron into her thigh. For ten seconds did he held it there. He made sure she cried out. Afterwards he started to whip her. He reminded her of every crime that she was guilty of as the whip caressed her body. He reminded of her every time she made him crazy with desire. It was a long whipping. Every time she thought it was over he would deliver another blow. But he knew that she could take it.
Then at long last he laid her down in a private alcove, so that he could enjoy his new slave. For a long time he just watched her as she stretched and moved her body. He remembered all those time she had flaunted that perfect body as she escaped his grasp, or especially when he had captured her.
At last he thrust her legs apart and eased himself into her. He felt the tight softness of her cunt yield to his manhood, felt her firm erect breasts flatten against his chest, and felt her soft lips open and lock themselves with his. He fucked her long and hard, wanting this moment to last forever. He forced her to yield when and how he wanted. Throughout the day he forced his slave to yield again and again, in different positions and always on his demand. At last he succumbed to exhaustion.
The next morning Bruce awoke to the gentle touch of Buffys lips and tongue. At first he though he was dreaming. Then he remembered the previous days events and allowed his slave girl to continue. He had to admit that she was juicing nicely.
Afterwards he gave his slave girl a small candy to suck. Obediently, Buffy did so as she followed him through the streets of Ar, slumped over under the weight of his gear. This proud shapely beast of burden gained more than her share of looks as she heeled her master. "Your slave begs a question. What do you plan to do about the Panther Woman? There is a large reward for her."
"The Panther woman no longer exists. Besides which, I suspect I would have a hard time convincing anybody that a hot cuddly slave, such as you are, was ever the feared Panther Woman. Better to let the Goreans wonder about her fate. Such concerns are no longer any of yours, Buffy."
"This slave is content with the Panther Womans fate. Where are going now, Master?" She asked.
Bruce answered, "Home, Gotham City. God knows what mischief the Joker had been up to in my absence. God, I wish I could exile him to this rock. Then he would be out of my hair, once and for all. But they will not take him, he being male and all."
Buffy asked, "Have you thought about feminizing him?"
Bruce laughed out loud. "You know Buffy? I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship"
Meanwhile another slave girl was getting to know her new master. She lay beside him, well used. He took a long drink from a paga cup, filling his mouth. Then he bent over to taste again the yielding lips of his cuddly slave girl. In doing so he let her drink of the paga in his mouth.
Then he said, "I understand you were once Batgirl. Is that true?"
"That was my last slave name, Master." She grew slightly red at the admission.
"No. I mean in Gotham City. You were Batgirl, the crime fighter."
More embarrassed, she answered, her head cast down, she answered, "Yes Master, when I was a silly, deluded free girl, such an identity was one of the delusions I harbored. I better know my place, now."
"Be quiet, foolish slave. As Batgirl you were magnificent. I was quite a fan of your exploits. I never thought that I would be so lucky as to one day to actually own you."
"You know of my exploits, Master, how?" her eyes like saucers, surprised."
"I have been to Earth quite a number of times. I even think of Gotham City as my own second home; I maintain a studio there. You will be seeing it soon enough." He paused, his cheeks growing a little red, and then continued. "I must warn you it is jam-packed full of Batgirl memorabilia, photographs, posters, even a few action figures. I never actually thought I would own the real thing." He slapped her on her rear.
Looking down, she asked, "May this girl ask are you an agent of the Kurii?"
"Actually not, my inquisitive little slut. That would be far from the truth. I am an agent of the Priest Kings. I am the Gotham liaison with the Earth agents there."
"You are taking me there, to be your slave girl?"
"Of course, my little batslut. I am Gorean and you are too beautiful to free. You have too many skills that I would find useful in my endeavors. You will be my scribe, my slave Friday and resource in every way of my investigation of alien abductions. Besides that, you are to be the centerpiece of my Batgirl collection, a unique item that the other collectors would die to have. Perhaps I will loan you out to them. I like the idea of their fucking the real Batgirl and they not even knowing it."
"Wont my dye job give me away, Master? It is not as if I can have much of a secret identify anymore?"
"There is a property about that dye that even Bruce may not know about. I give you a serum and the pigments fade away. I give you another serum and they come back. You will wear that body design when and where I decide. "
"You know Bruce? she asked.
"You mean Batman. Yes I know him. I even helped him through a tough spot in his life, helped him to see the light. He even approached me about being the new Robin. I cannot say I was not tempted by thoughts of being up close and personal with you, and all. But we came up with a better solution to his personal problems. It worked out for the best all the way around, dont you think? After all, as Robin all I could have expected from you was to be was your lover, while you pined away for Batman. Now our relationship will be so much more."
"Yes, Master, Batgirl awaits her orders. I, Batgirl, will strive to prove that statement true." She answered.
"You had better. I would expect nothing else. By the way, your name is no longer Batgirl. I changed it."
"To what, may I ask, Master?" She paused and then asked, "Is it Friday?"
The man laughed and answered, "You know I had not thought of that. That would be perfect. Maybe some day I will change it to that. But for the time being it remains Scully my hot, red headed fellow investigator."
She giggled. She could not help herself. "Scully, master. You are kidding."
"I am afraid so. I will confess to you that I also possess an awfully lot of X-file memorabilia. It is one of my favorite TV shows.
Scully snuggled up to her master, surprisingly contented. Her name was Scully. She could live that. It was one of her favorite TV shows also. At least it was better than Buffy.
Months later:
Bruce pressed his new batgirl to the side of the building. Her only response was to wiggle as he pulled her garb above her breasts. They were hard and erect. She shoved her tights to below her knees. Bruce noted with approval that she was juicing nicely. She gasped both with excitement and relief when he entered her. But then again, she had long been addicted to his touch, as he had become to hers. They often coupled a number of times a day, both on patrol and at Wayne Manor.
Her duties were, for the most part, simpler than Bruces other slaves. Generally they were to follow him around and be ready to be of service to him in any way he desired. When he worked at a desk, she would kneel, on a cushion, on the desk in front of him. At times he would reach up and fondle her breast, or play with her clit ring. While he was doing so, sometimes Harley would go down on him with her wonderfully talented mouth, or Ivy would impale herself on his cock. But usually such sessions would end up with Buffy melting in her masters grasp, bodies surging as one. At meal times she would kneel in front of him, holding a tray. There he would feed both himself and his pet, as he deemed fit.
She had a full wardrobe, but the only clothing she was usually allowed to wear was the Batgirl suit, and that only when he had donned the Batman persona. People had noticed that Batman and Batgirl were now rarely seen apart. It was now accepted that she had become his new partner. It was also speculated that they were partners in more ways than one.
Also noticed were the changes in Batgirl. She now moved with an erotic ease that had become many a males wet dream, and that of more than a few females. Some serious offers for photo shoots and movie roles had been made, through third parties. Of course she ignored all of them. Criminals noticed a darker, predatory nature of this new dark-haired Batgirl. She seemed to relish the hunt. It seemed to be almost an orgasmic experience for her. Among the criminal element a new name had been placed upon her; the Vampire Bat. It seemed especially fitting now that so many of Batmans nemeses just seemed to disappear.
Naturally, there was also talk about the formerly prominent socialite, Selina Kyle, who had emerged from seclusion to be seen now only at Bruce Waynes side. There was talk about how the couple was inseparable and how much they appeared to be very much in love. One columnist noted his cute little pet name for her, Buffy. Of course there was talk of wedding bells, but never from the couple themselves. Bruces only comment about the arrangement was that at last he had found a partner and confidant that he could grow old with. Selinas only response was a hearty nodding of her head.
This was of little concern to the both of them they pumped and ground their bodies together, needing to consummate their passion. Yet there was time. After he pumped his seed unto her, he turned her around. Pressing her body against the front of the building, he entered her again. This time it was her tighter channel. She cried in pain and delight, impaled. This round would take less time. They had things to do; this was no ordinary patrol. If things worked out Buffy was about to meet an old friend.
Markus was preparing the last of a new consignment of slaves when they struck. It was a short battle. Batman and his three companions made short work of the slavers. The leaders last conscious thought, as he was knocked out cold by the female figure in the bat suit, was "That is not Batgirl." Markus had always had a good eye for female flesh.
"Good work Buffy. You are turning out to a superb Batgirl"
Buffy gave her Master a quick glance of resentment. She had never fully adapted to this new role she was expected to play. She had begged her Master to at least let her be known as 'Batwoman', but Bruce would have nothing of it. She continued to scan for movement.
"Quiet, Batman. There is still one unaccounted for, the agent, remember?" Buffy cautioned. Suddenly she sprang into action. There was a cry of terror, a thud and silence. Before Batman could get to them, Buffy had stripped the girl of her valuables, which disappeared unseen into a utility belt, and of her clothing. She met her Master, with the unconscious beauty slung over her shoulder.
"Put her down. The authorities will be here soon. They can take it from here" ordered Batman.
"Is that wise? I think I will be keeping this one."
"For whatever reason why?" asked Batman.
"May I remind you that this is Rebecca Spoon, noted child author and Kurii agent? Under our tutelage I think she would make a great nanny."
"A nanny? What on Earth do we need a nanny for?" asked Batman. But then his mouth dropped open in shock. But before he could inquire further Buffy had disappeared into the dark.
It was proving an interesting partnership, not at all what he had expected. Buffy was proving quite a willful slave girl. Despite her outward docility her mouth had remained untamed. Even when kneeling in front of him trying to make herself look desirable, there would come sly observations, or cutting remarks. But then he had to admit that he was not entirely displeased with the results. Without them she would have not been the woman he had fallen in love with.
Suddenly he felt quite alone. He repressed the urge to run after her. She might have become addicted to his touch, but he had become addicted to her presence. He suspected that she knew that all too well. It was times like this that made him wonder about his relationship. Just who was playing the fiddle and who was dancing the jig?
No, he would not rush home. Instead he would shag both Ivy and Harley long and hard. Only then would he return to shag Buffy. He would make sure it would be a fuck that the slave girl would never forget. After all, he was master and they were slaves. He told himself again that he was the master and they were the slaves. His slaves looked in wonder when he suddenly laughed out loud and started to dance a jig. In moments Harley joined him, their bodies occasionally rubbing against each other. Ivy just shook her head. She had always known that her Master was a loon, but then werent they all?
In the distance, unseen in the shadows, a figure watched the spectacle and clapped her hands in delight. Bruce would have approved. Buffy was juicing nicely.
THE END
Want to read more details about Selinas time with the Slavers? Try reading The Cat and the Shackles by Wardall Clark
Want to read more about Batmans ownership of Barbara? If so try reading Under the Shadow of the Bat by Wardall Clark.
Want to read more tales of super heroines facing a fate worse than death on Gor?
Watch for the upcoming Wonder Woman on Gor series, a joint project by Theodoric of York and Wardall Clark. Featuring a host of DC characters such as Batman, Supergirl, Superman, and Lois Lane.
Story One: Diana and the Ubar
Story Two: Princess and Mercenary
Story Three: Birds of a Feather